Hummer
by ohlookitstamara
Summary: She was put in Group A as a Variable in WICKED's experiment. Remembering nothing about herself and being scared out of her wits, the new Greenie clashes with the Gladers from the very beginning. After several failed escapes, she decides to help out, but she's finding it hard to become "one of the guys."
1. Something WICKED this Way Comes

**A/N** **: While this story mostly follows the books, I've blended in a few things from the movie as well. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Katelyn Townes and her brother, Calvin, were only six. They had just been taken away from everything they'd ever known. Strange people in strange suits had come and taken them away. Katelyn remembered how sad her mother had been, but she hadn't stopped the men from taking her and Calvin away.

Katelyn did not like the new school she and Calvin were in. The grown-ups there never smiled, and no one wore anything colorful—even the dress she wore today was very bleak, all white with black buttons. She missed her mom and her older brother. She missed her cat and her friends—what little she had had in the small community she had lived in before.

But the absolute _worst_ thing about this new place was something that Katelyn did not understand no matter how hard she tried. Nobody called her or her brother by their real names. No matter how many times she corrected them, people still called her Diana—she had never even met a Diana before in her life, and they called her brother Apollon. The only thing that seemed good about this new place was that she and Calvin were never separated, save for bedtime.

It was currently lunchtime. The cafeteria was full of kids almost all around Katelyn's age. She and Calvin stood with their metal food trays in their hands, looking around for a small, open table. They were still new here, and they had not made any friends yet.

"Are you going to stand there all day?"

Katelyn automatically slid closer to Calvin before looking at a boy who was sitting at the table closest to them. He had blonde hair and brown eyes, and he could have been one or two years older than them.

"You can sit here if you want," the boy continued with an accent.

Calvin nudged Katelyn, trying to get her to uproot herself from the spot she was standing.

"Thanks," Calvin told the boy as he and Katelyn sat down.

"I'm Daniel," the boy told them, biting into a granola bar. "'Cept they call me Newt."

"I'm Calvin."

Katelyn picked at the stem of her apple and remained silent.

"This is my sister, Katelyn," Calvin added once he noticed that Katelyn was not planning on talking to anyone but him. "We're twins."

"Let me guess," Daniel/Newt said. "I bet you're the oldest."

His statement was obviously directed towards Calvin, and this made Katelyn snap her eyes up at him. She wanted to correct him, but she kept quiet.

Calvin and the boy talked for a long time. Katelyn had finished her food long ago, and she sat as quietly as ever, occasionally looking down at her shoes and wishing she were home again.

When Calvin finally left to go ask an adult where the bathroom was, Katelyn shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the silence but still not wanting to really say anything.

"Are you scared?"

The question was so sudden and out of the blue that Katelyn wondered at first if she had been imagining things. Looking up at the boy let her know that he did in fact ask her that.

Katelyn wanted to say, "no," but she still could not bring herself to speak to anyone but her brother, let alone lie.

She nodded slowly.

"So was I," the boy said. "It gets better. I promise."

And for the first time since she had been there, Katelyn smiled.

* * *

 ** _Eight Years Later…_**

"You _so_ have a major crush on Thomas."

"I do not!"

The two girls walked down the long corridor towards their shared room.

"You do so!"

"Shut it, Diana," said one of the girls to the other that had been teasing her.

Katelyn Townes had long since given up her real name, as had most of the kids at the facility she was in. It was too hard, living with two different names. There was only one person that still called her by her real name, and that was her brother.

When the girls reached the door to their room, Diana rolled her eyes.

"Oh, come on, Jenny, you should've seen yourself at lunch today. Every time he talked to you, you looked like you were going to float off your seat."

"Whatever," Jenny said, walking into the room and sitting her book on her nightstand.

Diana fell onto the bed on the right side of the room and sighed. She pulled out a notebook and pen from under her mattress and flipped it open to a long list of at least over a hundred names. About seventy of them had a strike through them.

"Anybody new missing today?" Jenny asked.

Diana shook her head, but still looked at the notebook, eyes lingering on some of the names that had been marked through. A sadness sort of seeped into her chest, dripping onto her heart, making it ache for her lost friends like Harriet and Sonya and Nick and Newt.

"After the first group went missing, things have slowed down. Now, it's just one boy and one girl every month like clockwork," Diana said, twirling her pen in her fingers.

"Then, watcha looking for?" Jenny asked.

"Well, if I'm correct, tomorrow marks a whole month since Frankie and Alice were taken. I'm just wondering who's going to be gone tomorrow."

Jenny shrugged as she fell onto her bed, but the worry that flashed in her eyes was unmistakable.

It was quiet for a long while.

"What do you think happens to them?" Jenny finally asked.

Diana had put her notebook away and rolled to her back to stare at the white ceiling.

"I dunno. I hear rumors every now and then."

"I heard they have this machine that sucks out your brain from your ears," Jenny said.

Diana wanted to roll her eyes, but she shuddered instead.

"That makes no sense. Why would they want our brains?"

She had tried to make it sound silly, but doubt had crept into her voice. They did a lot of weird experiments on them there at WICKED.

"You finish all your puzzles on time today?" Diana asked, changing the subject.

"Almost," Jenny said. "Spent too much time on the first one. Time had run out by the time I got to the last one. What about you?"

"Yup," Diana said, "but only barely today."

"Wow, three days in a row. Good job. What about Apollon?"

"He finished before me…again," Diana said. "He's just better at this. You know he's been finishing all his puzzles on time for a whole week now?"

"Pftt, show off," Jenny said, making Diana smile a bit.

"I heard two Lab Coats talking today," Diana said, remembering the weird conversation she had overheard.

"My brother and I were in our puzzle room just waiting for them to come let us out because we'd finished. And we could hear them on the other side of the door.

"They said something about it being 'time,' whatever _that_ means. And one of them said that I didn't seem ready but that my brother was. And then, the other one said we had to go at the same time or it'd be harder to compare the killzones or something like that—"

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa!_ Slow down," Jenny said, and Diana stopped talking only to realize she was shaking. "What the hell is a killzone?"

"I don't know, Jenny, but it didn't sound good."

"You don't think…you don't think they'll take you like the others? Do you?"

Diana let out a shaky breath.

"I think they are," Diana said truthfully, letting the whole weight of the situation finally crash down on her.

With tears in her eyes, she turned her head to look at her friend.

"I think they're killing us."

* * *

Diana woke up on a cold metal table in a rather bright room. The last thing she remembered was laying terrified in her bed, trying to calm herself by humming the song her mother had sang to her when she was younger. She did not remember how she had gotten there.

She sat up, realizing that her clothes had been changed. She now wore tan shorts and a light blue shirt with brown hiking boots all laced up nice and tight. It looked odd on her. She had worn nothing but white and black and the occasional gray for the past eight years. This was the most color she had seen anyone here ever wear.

Her heart pounded. They had done it. She had been right about them taking her. She hopped off of the table and walked slowly towards the door. She turned the doorknob and pushed it open just a bit. There were a couple of Lab Coats just outside the door.

They seemed caught up in their own conversation. They did not appear to notice her, but surely she would need all the luck in the world to actually leave the room without them noticing her. She looked back around the room for another way out. A window, a vent, a trapdoor, anything.

She sucked in a quiet breath before silently slipping out of the room. Everything was going okay for about two seconds.

"Miss Diana," said one of the Lab Coats, a woman with a severe looking face.

Diana looked from the Lab Coats to the empty corridor on the other side of her.

"I would advise against that," said the woman again, as though reading Diana's mind.

Diana sprinted down the empty hallway anyway. She could see another corridor coming up on her right. But before she could reach it, she smacked into something like a glass wall and fell down.

She looked up, putting a hand out. It stopped, but she did not understand _why_. Nothing was there, nothing at all. She looked behind her. The Lab Coats were walking towards her.

Diana got back up and pushed on the invisible wall as hard as she could. And finally she saw them, talking to each other not too far down. Diana pounded on the wall with her fists.

"Thomas! _Teresa!_ "

Her two friends looked at her. Diana panicked when she felt one of the Lab Coats grab her.

"Help me!" Diana screamed at the top of her lungs.

She felt a sharp prick on her arm, and something like ice seemed to spread through her body. Her strength weakened rather quickly, though she still tried to pound on the invisible wall.

"Help me!" she yelled again, though her voice was getting smaller. "Help—"

And as she felt herself being pulled up by her arms as she drifted away, she witnessed something terrible. Thomas and Teresa both turned away from her and started walking in the other direction.

* * *

Her mind woke up before her body did. She felt paralyzed, tried to move her arms but could not. She could not even seem to open her eyelids.

"Is the subject prepped?"

The voice seemed far away and muffled, Diana had only barely understood it.

"Yes, but we're a bit confused as to why Subject B39 is being put in Group A. Where is A39?"

"There's been a change of plan. It was a decision made by the Chancellor herself just last week. As of now, she _is_ Subject A39; her brother will be put in Group B."

Calvin. They were talking about her brother. Diana tried harder to move, but she just could not. And she was terrified.

"But—"

"There are no objections. The Chancellor knows what's best for our experiment. This girl and her brother are but new Variables, giving us more killzone patterns to study. Besides, it has been decided that Group B is showing a bit more advancement than Group A. Apollon will be best suited for Group B, as he is more advanced than his sister. As you recall, we almost had to delay putting them in the experiment this month because of her ineptitude."

Had she not been so frightened, this would have made Diana angry. Sure, Calvin was a bit smarter than her, but she was not an idiot. How she wished she could move.

"These are important subjects in their own right. We'll be able to study the killzone area of twins, which is something we haven't done before and won't be able to do again as they're the only ones we have."

"Are we ready?"

This was a new voice.

"Yes, Chancellor."

"Well, let's get started."

Diana did not like the sound of that. She could feel her heart pounding. She could hear blood rushing in her ears. She wanted to scream, kick, cry. But she could do nothing except feel absolutely helpless. And her brother was not there to come to her rescue; no one was.

She felt tears well behind her eyelids as she thought that this must be happening to Calvin too. If her body could just wake up, maybe she could get away. Maybe she could find him.

Suddenly, Diana felt something being lowered onto her face, something like a mask. Her heart pounded faster as it emitted weird clicks and beeps. And then, she felt something like ropes or wires slithering over her face, finding their way into her ears, and she freaked out, thinking about the brain sucking machine that Jenny had heard about.

It was painful, and she wanted to cry out. She felt her left arm twitch violently at her side before falling limp again. She felt a small tear run down the side of her face. It traveled across her temple before joining one of the tubes in her ear.

And that was when it happened. Diana heard a hiss and what sounded like a kind of electrical zap. And that seemed to wake her body up. Her eyes snapped open, and she shot up into a sitting position on the table. She could register nothing but pain as she screamed into the mask and tore at the tubes in her ears.

The doctor and nurses in the room gave her a look of horror. And the Chancellor barked orders at them.

"Turn it off! Turn it off! Get her sedated!"

Diana felt something warm ooze from her left ear, and she just knew from the pain of it all that it was blood. She felt someone grab her arms, and she flailed about, kicking and hitting and scratching as much as she possibly could.

The Chancellor quickly picked up a syringe and plunged it into Diana's shoulder with a painful jab.

And before she knew it, the pain subsided, and she was drifting away once more.

"Test her vitals, and find out what the hell just happened, and ensure that it doesn't happen again. And for the love of all that's good, make sure she's still functioning and not brain dead."

"What do we do if she is?"

There was a small pause.

"Euthanize her and her brother."

Those were the last words Diana heard before blacking out completely.


	2. Out of the Box and into the Glade

It was dark. It was so dark that she thought she had gone blind. She felt around the floor and walls, bumping into boxes and crates. Metal. It was all metal.

Panic began to swell in her chest like a balloon. Her breathing picked up its pace, and she scrambled backwards into a corner as the cage she was in started to move.

 _Where am I?_

The thought raced through her mind over and over again, but the thought she had next was somehow even more terrifying.

Who _am I?_

She thought hard, trying to remember her name, remember _anything._ She had no solid memories, like all the specific things that made her who she was had been plucked from her brain. She could not remember her family or friends or where she came from or how she got there. Hell, she couldn't even remember what she looked like or how old she was.

Her head was starting to hurt, and there was a dull throb in her left ear accompanied by a slight ringing that would not go away. She rubbed her ear with the heel of her hand, but that only made the pain worse.

She began to sob, and she pulled her legs to her chest, burying her face in her knees.

She didn't know how long she stayed like that. She cried for what felt like forever as she desperately tried to remember anything about herself or her past. Finally, the tears stopped coming, and a numbness spread through her body. Her head ached; her ear still throbbed, though the ringing had died down a bit.

The box she was in continued to move upward. It had been a long time now. Her eyes had not adjusted to the dark at all, and she feared that maybe she really _had_ gone blind.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to ensure that she wouldn't freak out again. It would do her no possible good. She unfolded herself and shuffled around on the floor of the lift until she reached a box. Letting her fingers feel around the top, she opened the lid and hesitantly plunged her hand inside it.

She grabbed the first thing she felt and pulled it from the box. It felt like a bundle of rope. She sat it down beside her before digging back into the box. She pulled out what felt like an empty bag, a backpack maybe. She tossed it aside. Next, she found a shoe and then its pair.

Finally, she found something that could help her out just a little. Her hand closed around a metallic cylinder. Feeling the end of it, she knew it was a flashlight. She easily found the on switch.

Light flooded around her. She had been right; she was in a giant metal box. The confirmation didn't make her feel any better. In fact, the only bright side about having the flashlight was that she could now see that the top of the box looked as though it were supposed to open somehow. However, when and how and to what was still a mystery to her.

She shone the flashlight into the box and finished snooping around. If this huge trap _was_ going to open, maybe there was something there that could help her out. She found another bundle of rope, an empty canteen, a couple of little boxes of matches.

She pulled the empty backpack from earlier towards herself and began packing in the supplies. Who knew what was waiting for her outside of this lift. She needed to be prepared to run, and she needed to be prepared to survive on her own.

She dug back into the box. Gardening gloves. Nails. A hammer. A pocket knife (which she slid into the back pocket of her shorts).

She moved over to a crate and pried the lid off. She almost rejoiced at the sight of the water bottles. She grabbed one, popping off the cap and downing half of it with ease. Grabbing a few more, she stuffed them into her backpack and moved on to another box.

She found bars of soap and a few extra pairs of socks and shorts and shirts that all seemed just a tad too big for her. She stuffed a couple in the bag anyway. She also found what appeared to be guys' underwear. She stuffed a couple of those into her bag as well. Better guys' underwear than no extra underwear at all.

She had gone through almost all of the items when the lift suddenly lurched to a halt with a loud clanking noise. She quickly grabbed the backpack and forced it to zip shut. With a deep breath, she switched the flashlight off and tucked it away in the side pocket of the backpack. She slung the bag over her shoulders and tightened the straps.

She waited, looking up into the complete darkness that had swallowed her up again. Then, stacking a few crates on top of each other against one of the walls, she carefully perched herself on top of them. She pushed on the top of the lift. Nothing happened. She tried again, and this time she had to stop herself from falling off the crates.

The top was sliding open with an awful grinding sound of metal on metal. The loud noise hurt her left ear, and she was almost tempted to cover it, but she needed to be prepared to jump out as soon as possible. She grabbed the folded pocket knife from her shorts and clutched it so hard in her right hand that she could feel the imprints it was leaving.

She heard noises–voices maybe. She stared calmly into the light, letting her eyes adjust to it. As soon as the opening in the top was big enough, she sprung upwards, landing on soft grass. She could hear the crash of the crates inside the box as they tumbled down. She rolled on the ground and jumped to her feet.

She spun in a circle, staring at the faces of about thirty-something boys of all different races and heights and ages. They stared at her in turn with confused and dumbfounded faces. She caught a few murmured words.

"What the shuck?"

"Is that a–a _girl?_ "

"You gotta be shuckin' kidding me."

"She scattered all our supplies!"

She quickly flipped open the knife in her hand, and a few boys stepped back.

"Back off!" she warned, the sound of her own voice surprising her.

A rather tall boy with dark hair tentatively stepped towards her.

"Hey, slim yourself nice and calm. No one's gonna hurt you."

"Back off!" she said again, slicing at the air between her and the boy.

He held up his hands and stood still.

"My name's Nick. Can you tell me anything about yourself? How about your name?"

Her brow pushed together as she vaguely tried to remember anything once more, not that she planned on telling these people.

Enough people had backed away from her that she could finally assess her surroundings. She was in a huge field with trees and buildings and gardens. She looked up at the four enormous gray walls that surrounded the plain. Each had an opening down the middle.

 _A way out,_ she thought.

She looked back at the boys and suddenly lurched at a couple of them. They moved away from her, and she darted for the nearest wall opening. She clung to her knife tightly, and her backpack bounced on her back as her feet took her as fast as she could go.

The boy called Nick nodded ever so slightly towards a stony-faced Asian kid and a blonde boy with a square jaw. The two looked at each other, and then, they sprinted after the girl. They easily gained on her.

The Asian boy tackled her to the ground. She could hear the cheers from the crowd. She squirmed and tried to slash at him with her knife, but her arm didn't bend that way, and all she could see was the grass and dirt that her face was currently mushed in.

The other boy pinned her knife arm to the ground. As he pried her hand open, trying to disarm her, he kept saying,

"Calm down, calm down. Give me the knife."

"Go to hell!" she spat into the ground.

The blonde boy finally managed to grab the knife. The Asian kid got off of her and pulled her to her feet by the scruff of her neck. He pulled off the backpack she was wearing and threw it to the blonde kid.

She tried to wrench her neck from the boy's hand, but he just grabbed her hair, which had fallen out of the bun it was in. She yelped and clawed at his hands, but he only pulled harder. Directing her back towards the crowd of boys, the boy walked her forward, and she had no choice but to grudgingly comply.

"Alright, you shanks, get back to work," Nick said to the other boys, who groaned but walked away nonetheless with fleeting glances at the girl.

Nick turned his attention to the girl, who was still halfheartedly struggling against Minho. Nick nodded to Newt's hands.

"What's in the bag?"

"Just some of our supplies," he said.

Nick turned back to the girl, narrowing his eyes just a tiny bit.

"So in one day, you've managed to steal from us, threaten us, and tried to get yourself killed," he said, stepping towards her.

The girl clawed the air between them, almost catching the boy's face. The boy holding her let go of her hair and twisted her arms behind her back.

"Why are you doing this to me? What do you want?" she finally asked.

"We didn't do anything," Nick told her. "It's happened to all of us. We wake up in the box; we end up in the Glade."

The girl was wary of his answer. He could be lying.

"Why can't I remember anything?"

She hadn't meant to ask it. It had flown out of her mouth so fast that she hadn't had time to bite her tongue.

"Like I said, it happens to all of us. Now, if we let you go, are you gonna run again?"

The girl's hazel eyes involuntarily flicked to the nearest wall opening, and she said "no" far to fast for Nick to actually believe her.

"That's what I thought," Nick said. "Put her in the slammer, Minho."

Her eyes got wide at that.

"Wait! Please, wait!"

Minho pushed her forward, and she stumbled on her own feet as they dragged under her. She fought against him, wrenching her arms painfully as they approached the northern part of the Glade.

"Just slim yourself nice and calm," he said. "We're just putting you in there until the walls close. Can't have any Greenies running off into the Maze."

 _Greenies? Maze?_ she thought to herself. _What is this guy talking about?_

She was thrown into a sort of dirt pit with a roof and a cage door that Minho secured with an old, rusted lock.

"Shouldn't be long," Minho said, glancing down at her as he clicked the lock. "Box came up late today. Usually, I'm not even back to see the Greenbeans when they come up."

The girl watched him walk away. She wrapped her hands around the bars on the door and looked across the Glade to the South wall. Surely, nothing that big could _close._ Clearly, these kids were all lunatics. She needed an escape plan.

Pushing her face to the door, she eyed the West wall. The opening on that wall seemed to be shrouded by the forest. That door would be her best bet. She just had to play along with their game. She would sneak into the forest and leave then. Until that time, she was stuck in a dirt prison. How humiliating.

She hung her head, leaning her forehead against the door. A lock of hair fell into her line of vision, and she studied it curiously. It was dark brown and tangled. She ran her hand through it, wincing as she came across the matted knots.

About five minutes later, she was joined by another boy.

"Nick sent me over to get you out. Well, after the doors close anyway."

She gave him a rather cold look as she pulled up the few tiny blades of grass that had decided to grow in the pit.

"My name's Alby. You haven't told us yours yet, and I know you remember it. It's the only thing we all remember."

She looked up at Alby, and a mild look of pain briefly swept across her face. She was quiet for a while before finally deciding to talk to him.

"Is it true that you guys can't remember anything either?"

Alby sat beside the door and nodded.

"Woke up in the box with nothing but our names. We started off with about thirty. Then we got a new Greenie every month like clockwork. You're our seventh Greenie, and our _only_ girl."

"You've been here for seven months?" the girl asked, choosing to ignore the last comment for now. "Why haven't you left?"

Alby gave her a hard look, as though he were offended.

"You think we _wanna_ stay here, slinthead?" he snapped at her. "You don't just waltz out of the Glade and back to your life. It's a lot more complicated than that."

Suddenly, there was a loud boom that echoed through the Glade. The pain in the girl's left ear seemed to triple, and she doubled over, clamping her hands over it, yelling out. The pain was made worse by the horrible grinding sound that followed.

"Slim yourself, Greenie," Alby said, a look of worry flashing over his features. "It's just the walls closing."

The pain only got worse, and she squeezed her eyes shut, a few tears leaking out.

"Make it stop! Shut it off!" she yelled at the boy, thinking that maybe they had control of the awful walls.

"Cool it, Greenbean! The walls close every night. Can't nobody here stop 'em, and if you knew what was out there, you'd _want_ them to close," Alby said.

She wasn't listening; the ringing in her ear came back at full force. When the walls had stopped moving, she held her ear until the pain settled back down to a dull ache. She looked back up. Past Alby, she saw that the walls had in fact closed, trapping her inside the Glade with these boys that she didn't know.

"You okay, Greenie?"

She looked up at him with watery eyes.

"Stop calling me that. I don't even know what it means," she said, her voice cracking just a bit.

"Well, if you tell me your name, maybe I'd call you by it instead," Alby replied.

She looked away from him, not wanting to admit that she didn't remember her own name. Alby rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Fine, don't tell me," he said, pulling out a key. "Don't care no way."

He unlocked the door and pulled it open.

"Come on, Greenie. You got a lot to learn."


	3. Gally, Newt, and Get Away Plans

**_Previously:_**

 _She looked up at him with watery eyes._

 _"Stop calling me that. I don't even know what it means," she said, her voice cracking just a bit._

 _"Well, if you tell me your name, maybe I'd call you by it instead," Alby replied._

 _She looked away from him, not wanting to admit that she didn't remember her own name. Alby rolled his eyes and shook his head._

 _"Fine, don't tell me," he said, pulling out a key. "Don't care no way."_

 _He unlocked the door and pulled it open._

 _"Come on, Greenie. You got a lot to learn."_

* * *

Alby offered his hand to the girl, but she swatted it away and crawled out of the pit herself. She brushed the dirt off of her shirt and shorts and looked around at the closed walls. She sighed a little in annoyance.

"Alright, let's go," Alby said.

He grabbed her upper arm, and she pulled away from him.

"I can walk, thank you very much," she snapped.

Alby gave her a wary look, and she rolled her eyes.

"Where am I gonna go?" she asked, motioning around at the walls. "Hide in one of the corners?"

Alby rolled his eyes before shrugging his shoulders.

"Just follow me; no wondering off."

The girl walked a couple of feet behind Alby, taking in the Glade. The boys had left their work. A small group of them were piling wood up about thirty or forty yards in front of a rickety looking wooden building. She and Alby passed another group of boys who were kicking around a makeshift ball made of leather. She could see bits of dead grass poking out from some of the poorly sewn seams on it.

The boys stopped their game and stared at her. Some were completely quiet. Some were murmuring to each other. She saw a rather tall boy with short hair lean over to whisper something to his friend as she passed. The boy laughed at whatever the taller boy had said, and the girl's cheeks flushed red with anger. She kept her eyes forward and her head held high.

Eventually, she and Alby reached the boys who were stacking the wood. The girl recognized the boy called Nick and the blonde kid that she had told to "go to hell." When Nick saw her and Alby, he walked over to them.

"Thanks, Alby. Do me a favor and tell Frypan we're about to light up the bonfire."

Alby nodded, but before he left, he whispered something to Nick, who just nodded. Then, Alby jogged away, leaving Nick and the girl alone.

"Hell of a start you've had, Greenie," Nick said. "I see you've calmed down a bit. Alby tells me you freaked when the walls were closing. Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

The girl's cheeks flushed red again.

"I wasn't freaking out," she defended heatedly. "My ear was killing me."

Nick raised his brow.

"Just one of them?"

The girl folded her arms, and looked past Nick toward the pile of wood.

"My left ear," she replied. "It's been hurting and ringing ever since I woke up in that hell hole you call a box."

"We'll get a Med-jack to check you out later," Nick told her.

"I'm not letting anyone _here_ do any sort of doctoring on me," she bit out. "I'd rather go deaf."

"Suit yourself, Greenie. But if you _do_ go deaf in that ear of yours, don't expect it to get you out of any work," Nick told her.

She wanted to roll her eyes, but she thought better of it. She wasn't going to be doing anything other than finding a way out of this place. Screw their "work."

"Alright, so the grand tour starts now. This is the Glade, we—that includes you, Greenie—are Gladers. That building's the Homestead," Nick said, pointing to the rickety, wooden building. "Some of us sleep in there, but most sleep outside. Never rains here, so you don't have to worry about that. The water's pumped in from underground.

"Over there's the gardens. Those are the Deadheads," Nick continued, pointing to the forest. "Our graveyard's back there."

"Graveyard?"

Nick shrugged.

"Only about five kids have died so far. Mostly Greenies that lost it once they got out of the box," he explained; then, he pointed towards the northern part of the Glade. "That, as you already know, is the Slammer. That's where you go if you break the rules or just royally piss me off."

The girl did roll her eyes this time, but Nick wasn't paying attention; he was already pointing out other buildings.

"Over there's the kitchen; Frypan cooks most of our food. Over there, you got the Blood House, but don't worry, that's just for the animals," he added, noticing the girl's widening eyes. "The Box comes up once every week with new supplies. Every month, we get a new Greenie. You're our first girl so far, but hey, it's only been seven months, right? Maybe they've just gotten around to sending the girls up."

 _"They?"_ the girl asked.

"Don't interrupt," Nick said, and she rolled her eyes again.

"Now, there's only three rules. Three very important rules," Nick continued, stressing the "very important" part of his sentence. "Number one: No hurting the other Gladers; we can't have lunatics running around trying to kill us. Number two: Do your share of work; we don't have the time or the resources for you to klunk around all day. And Number three, as you should know by now: You don't leave the Glade."

"Why?" she asked automatically.

"I'd tell you, but it's still just your first day, and by the stunt you pulled right after you got out of the Box, I can tell you don't take bad news well. Maybe after you've gotten used to things around here, I'll tell you. But for right now, you'll just have to wait."

"You haven't told me what that building is," she said, pointing to the small, concrete building a few yards away from the Box Hole.

"Another thing you'll have to wait for," Nick told her.

"For how long?"

"Until I say so, _that's_ how long," he snapped at her.

"What? Are _you_ supposed to be the leader around these parts?" she spat back.

Nick narrowed his eyes at her.

"As a matter of fact, I _am._ And when I'm not here, Alby's in charge. And a word of advice, the quicker you lose the attitude and accept that we're all in the same boat, the better off we'll all be."

She and Nick glared at each other for a while before she finally broke eye contact, which she immediately scolded herself for. She had not wanted to give him the satisfaction of her looking away first. However, she was starting to think that she wasn't as tough as she felt sometimes.

"Now, run along and try to stay out of trouble."

"Aye, aye, Captain," she mumbled sarcastically, but Nick hadn't heard her; he had gone back to piling wood.

She heaved a huge sigh and looked around. She caught a few guys looking at her, and they hadn't bothered to look away when she did.

 _Great, just great,_ she thought. _I gotta get out of this place._

She looked around at the walls surrounding the Glade. Thick ivy covered them. It seemed to grow almost all the way up to the top. However, she noticed that it didn't grow far enough for someone to actually _reach_ the top.

And that was when she spotted it. A patch of ivy that grew on the top of the East wall. However, it seemed to grow alone. The closest patch left a gap between the two. She assessed the gap, thinking that she could _totally_ make that reach. Now, she just needed a way to scale the wall without anyone noticing. She would have to wait till nightfall, which according to the changing colors in the sky, wasn't too far away.

"Whatcha looking at, Greenie?"

The girl rolled her eyes and let out an annoyed sighed. Turning ever so slightly, she recognized the tall boy with short hair that had been whispering about her earlier. He was accompanied by a few of his friends.

"Well, if it wasn't obvious enough, I was looking at the wall," she said caustically.

The boy gave a small smirk.

"I can see that, but why?"

She clenched her jaw in annoyance.

"Because it seems to be the most attractive thing in this Glade to look at," she retorted, giving him an obvious once over, causing the smirk on his face to disappear.

However, he didn't miss a beat.

"No argument there, Greenbean," he said, giving her a once over identical to the one she'd given him.

The boy's friends snickered, and the girl narrowed her eyes before looking back at the wall.

"Well, now that we've gotten that worked out, why are you still here?"

"Because you're in the middle of our Ring, girly," he said in a matter-of-fact voice.

The girl looked down and noticed that she was standing in a large circle of sand. Irked by the boy, she folded her arms across her chest and looked at him.

"So?" she said.

 _"So,"_ he started, "unless you're participating, get out."

Her brow furrowed slightly.

"Participating in what?"

The boy let out a small chuckle as he rolled up the sleeves of his brown shirt to his elbows.

"Let me demonstrate."

The boy very swiftly linked his arms with hers and pinned them behind her. Then, he proceeded to push her towards the edge of the circle. She dug the heels of her boots in the sand, but it did nothing against the kid's strength. Soon, she was standing in the grass just outside of the Ring.

With a slight shove from the boy, she stumbled forward away from the Ring. Her cheeks flushed when she heard the cheers of the boy's friends.

She whipped around and stalked back towards the boy, shoving him hard.

"What the hell was that about?" she yelled.

The boy grinned.

"That's the game, Greenie. First one out of the Ring loses," he told her.

She glared at him and rubbed her arm.

"How about a rematch? What d'ya say, Greenie?"

Oh, how she wanted to accept, to put him in his place, but she knew he was much stronger than her. She wasn't about to humiliate herself in front of the growing crowd of Gladers.

"No thanks. I'd rather never have to touch you again," she spat, turning on her heel and walking towards the Homestead.

The girl sat on the steps of the Homestead, watching people prepare for the bonfire thing that they were apparently having tonight. She got a few glances here and there, but mostly people had stopped paying her too much attention, which she didn't mind in the slightest.

However, a few minutes later, a boy with red hair sat down beside her.

"Hey, Newbie."

She let out a groan.

"Oh, god. And who the hell are _you?_ "

The boy smiled despite the girl's attitude.

"Name's Frankie. Certified Track-hoe and former Greenie, promoted today all thanks to you," he said.

She made a kind of disparaging noise at the word "Greenie." She was getting tired of hearing it.

"Glad I could help," she said sarcastically, picking at the plastic part on the tip of one of her shoelaces.

"Saw that you met Gally today in the Ring," Frankie commented.

"The blockhead? Yeah, I met him. He's a real piece of work."

Frankie laughed.

"He's knows how to step on people's toes, I'll give you that. But give it a month; he'll grow on ya."

The girl didn't say anything. She wasn't going to be in this stupid place for a whole month. She was getting out tonight.

"I know it sucks, being the new kid," Frankie said. "Just give it some time—"

"I don't _want_ to give it time," she snapped in a frustrated voice. "I _want_ to get the hell out of this place!"

Frankie just nodded before standing up.

"Yeah, I know," he said in what sounded like an understanding sort of voice before walking away and leaving her on the steps alone.

A few minutes passed, and a crowd was gathering in front of the unlit bonfire. A few were holding makeshift torches, including Nick and Alby. The two were standing, facing the crowd, their backs towards the girl, who hadn't moved from her spot on the steps.

"We're here today to celebrate the arrival of our new Greenie, who has declined not only to join us, but to give us her name as well," Nick said, motioning towards her.

She rolled her eyes as everybody looked at her. Some cheered, a few clapped halfheartedly. She had a feeling that the cheers were more for the festivities rather than for her. She didn't really blame them.

"Regardless of her being a complete shank and stick in the mud," Nick announced, giving her a small glance—a few of the boys snickered, "I expect you to give her the warm welcome she deserves.

"Tomorrow, she'll start her work with Winston and the Blood Housers, and after that, she'll work her way through all the Keepers as usual until she finds her place," Nick continued.

 _Like hell I will,_ she thought bitterly.

"I'm guessing we've got another Slopper on ours hands," Gally said, pointing his torch towards her.

Laughter erupted in the crowd of boys. She sneered at Gally, who only grinned back at her.

"Alright, Greenie, this is for you," Nick said, raising his torch to her in some form of solidarity. "Light it up!"

Everyone with a torch, threw it onto the woodpile, which went up in flames. The crowd cheered and yelled. The girl put her hand over her left ear to try to prevent the throbbing and ringing from getting any worse.

 _I hate this place,_ she thought.

After an hour or two of sitting and refusing to talk to anyone, people finally gave up on her for the day; the novelty of her had worn off. Night had fallen, and she waited until the crowd had gathered around the Ring before she made her move.

She quietly and quickly made her way to the spot on the East wall that she had been studying earlier. She glanced back every now and then to make sure no one noticed her. Luckily, all focus was on Gally and whatever poor kid was in the Ring with him at the time. She found that she had no trouble sneaking away from the party.

She pulled on the ivy, and a small smile appeared on her lips when it clung to the wall still. With one last look back at the celebrating Gladers, she started to scale the wall, counting on the night to mask herself from their view.

It was a lot harder than she thought. Some of the ivy snapped under her weight, but so far, she hadn't fallen off the wall. When she reached the top of one patch of ivy, she stretched her body to grab hold of another, and she continued her climb.

She was halfway up the wall before anyone noticed that she was missing. It had been Frankie—the kid was too nice for his own good, and he felt sorry for the new girl. After searching for a few minutes, he finally walked over to Nick.

"Nick, I think our new Greenie's up to something," Frankie told him.

Nick looked up at Frankie from the log he was sitting on.

"Why?" he asked, trying to look at the steps of the Homestead, but his view was blocked by the crowd of Gladers.

"Because she's missing."

Nick shot up so fast that his sitting log rolled backwards and tripped up a Glader after it rolled under his feet.

 _"What?"_ Nick yelled, looking all around for the girl.

A few people were starting to notice that something was wrong, and they stopped what they were doing.

"Hey! Hey, everybody, shut up!" Nick finally yelled, silencing and halting the other Gladers. "Anyone seen our Greenie?"

Everybody looked around for the girl, murmuring to each other and shaking their heads. After no definite response, Nick grumbled out a few swearwords.

"Alright, Keepers, I want you to round up your workers and split up. I want her found now! No one sleeps until we know where she is!" Nick ordered.

The girl looked back down at the Gladers when she heard Nick's voice carrying through the air.

"Shit!" she murmured under her breath before proceeding to quicken her climbing pace.

The Baggers searched the Deadheads. The Track-hoes searched the corn field. The Runners searched around the walls, and everyone else went in all different directions. She had almost reached the topmost patch of ivy. Just one more gap, and she'd climb out of this weird place.

It didn't take long for one of the Runners to find her. Newt almost laughed when he spotted her climbing up the wall. She had gotten pretty far, but soon, she would find that she had no place to go. Plenty of people taller than her had tried to reach the top patches of ivy, but the gaps were too big to be crossed, and the wall was too smooth to be climbed without the ivy.

"Hey, Greenie!"

The girl rolled her eyes. She knew that stupid accent. Sighing, she looked down at the blonde boy.

"Yeah?" she yelled back in the most nonchalant voice she could muster as she clung to the ivy.

"What're you doing?"

She could hear the amusement in his voice even from that high up.

"Just hanging out," she yelled back down, and Newt laughed and shook his head.

"Hey, guys, Newt's found her!" the girl heard Alby shout.

 _Newt,_ she laughed inside her head. _What kind of name is Newt?_

Suddenly, she frowned, realizing for the billionth time that day that she didn't even _remember_ her name.

A crowd of Gladers were gathering around the wall, directly under where she was climbing.

"Hey, slinthead!"

Nick.

"Get your butt down here before you hurt yourself! You're no good to us dead!"

She could tell he wasn't nearly as amused as Newt was with her get away plans.

"No!" she stubbornly yelled back at him.

She resumed her climb, avoiding the flurry of swearwords and threats that Nick was shouting at her. She finally reached the last gap, and she automatically knew she had made a slight error with her assessment from the ground.

"When do you think she'll realize she can't go anywhere?" Frypan asked to no one in particular.

The girl tried anyway. Stretching her arm as far as it would go. It didn't even come close to the desired patch of ivy. She tried again with the same result. Alby shook his head.

"Nice try, Greenbean," he yelled up to her, "but we've already thought of that! You've got nowhere to go but right back here where you started!"

The girl groaned, knowing Alby was right as she rested her forehead on the wall. Of course, she wasn't about to admit defeat.

Picking her head up, she tried again. Stretching her arm and finding another foothold, she strained to reach the top patch of ivy.

Her new foothold snapped, and she yelped in surprise. By some luck, she managed to catch herself, tangling her hands in the ivy.

"You're gonna get yourself killed!" Gally shouted up to her, and then, he said to the Gladers around him, "Looks like the Baggers'll have their work cut out for them in the morning."

A few people chuckled, but a boy beside him frowned.

"I'll bag her up, but I ain't buryin' her. She don't deserve it," he said, looking up at the new Glader.

"I dunno," Newt countered, laughter still obvious in his voice, "she's a bloody determined little Greenie."

"She's a pain in my ass is what she is," Nick snapped at Newt before looking back up at the girl and shouting, "Suit yourself, shuck-face! You can't stay up there forever!"

And with that, Nick stormed off towards the Homestead, Alby following him. The girl sighed, knowing that he was right. She would have to come back down eventually.


	4. The Mystery Tune

**_Previously:_**

 _"You're gonna get yourself killed!" Gally shouted up to her, and then, he said to the Gladers around him, "Looks like the Baggers'll have their work cut out for them in the morning."_

 _A few people chuckled, but a boy_ _beside him frowned._

 _"I'll bag her up, but I ain't buryin' her. She don't deserve it," he said, looking up at the new Glader._

 _"I dunno," Newt countered, laughter still obvious in his voice, "she's a bloody determined little Greenie."_

 _"She's a pain in my ass is what she is," Nick snapped at Newt before looking back up at the girl and shouting, "Suit yourself, shuck-face! You can't stay up there forever!"_

 _And with that, Nick stormed off towards the Homestead, Alby following him. The girl sighed, knowing that he was right. She would have to come back down eventually._

* * *

However, she did not have to come down at that precise moment. How demeaning would it be to have to climb back down now with them all just staring at her? No. She had enough upper body strength to keep her up there for a while. Besides, the ivy was thick; if she needed to, she would tie it around her.

A few of the kids walked away when Nick and Alby had, but the majority of them stayed put. Apparently, watching a crazy girl hang on a wall at dangerous heights was far more entertaining than beating each other up in a sand pit. She sighed, looking up at the stars. This was going to be a long night.

"Alright, Greenie, you've had your fun," she heard Gally call. "Now, come on down before you _fall_ down!"

She narrowed her eyes, though she didn't look down at the boy. She needed to focus on how exactly she was going to get out of this place. She carefully turned herself around so that she was facing the Glade.

"What's she doing?" Frankie asked.

"Please, don't tell me she's about to jump," Frypan said.

"I knew she was crazy from the moment she jumped outta the box," another kid commented.

The girl stared out into the Glade, but it was dark. She saw the glow of the fire, lighting up the Ring and the Homestead. She could just make out the group of boys below her.

She let out a low whistle as she looked down. She was really, _really_ high up. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

 _I'm not going to panic,_ she thought to herself. _If I can climb this high without freaking out, then I can stay here without freaking out._

Of course, now that she thought about it, she hadn't really been too focused on the height when she was climbing. She had been more focused on getting the hell out of this place.

"Come on, Greenie," Newt called, vaguely worried that she might actually try to kill herself.

"Stop calling me that!" she shouted back down after a slight pause, and he chuckled, realizing that she was too stubborn to just give up now.

"Well, you haven't bloody told us what you want to be called, have you?" he called back up to her.

"Because I don't want any of you talking to me!" she half lied, trying hard to remember her name once more.

"Alright," Newt called back, "we won't talk to you anymore."

Then, he proceeded to sit on the ground and just stare up at her. Some of the other kids followed suit, and some walked away, having tired of their new Greenie and her antics.

"How long do you think it'll take her to come around?" Frankie asked, sitting next to Newt.

"Hard to tell," Newt said.

The girl scowled at the remaining group of boys still staring up at her. The muscles in her arms were already starting to sting a bit. She sighed, knowing that those boys were going to be able to sit there a lot longer than she could stay up on that wall.

Ten minutes later, her muscles were killing her. Nick had come back to see if she had given up on her pointless endeavor yet. She had promptly ignored him when he had tried talking to her, causing him to lose his temper with her once again.

"That's it! The longer you stay up there, the harsher your punishment's gonna be!" he yelled at her; he had never hated a Greenie so much in his life.

"Yeah, that's probably not giving her any more incentive to come down," Newt told him.

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed and forehead crinkled in annoyance.

"Winston, keep an eye on her," he ordered. "Gally, go round up the other Keepers. We'll take turns watching her until she comes down. Everybody else, go to sleep."

Her muscles were screaming at her at this point. Carefully letting go with one hand, she found the thickest vine of ivy closest to her. Slowly, she began wrapping it around the top of her chest. It was harder than she had thought it would be, wrapping herself in the vines. But then again, she was sure _anything_ could be hard when you were clinging to the side of a wall.

She got the vine wrapped around her about five or six times before tying it off. Ever so slightly, she loosened her grip on the vines she was still clinging to, putting a bit more of her weight on the vines around her chest. Confidence swelled inside her when the vine held strong.

Next, she found another suitable vine and began wrapping it around her hips and crisscrossing it between and around her thighs like a sort of harness. After that, she started wrapping another vine around her tightly, directly under her breasts. And then, for good measure, she wrapped another around her waist.

Once she was done, she felt like a leafy mummy. However, she was able to take a ton of her weight off of her leg and arm muscles, and for that, she was happy.

Several hours passed and many Keepers had come and gone, switching off about every thirty minutes so the other could sleep. A couple had tried talking to her, but for the most part, they were completely silent, probably wishing she would come down so they didn't have to do this anymore.

Every now and then, she would wrap another vine around herself, but it was mostly out of boredom more than it was a safety measure. By now, she had so many vines wrapped around her that she could completely let go of the wall, and she'd just hang there. Of course, that was kind of uncomfortable and scary to do.

The vines were already starting to hurt her armpits. And the way she had wrapped the vines around her lower half was starting to give her a massive wedgie that she tried desperately to pick out on more than one occasion. She had yet to succeed with that.

She found that she had no trouble with staying awake; her body was way too uncomfortable for sleeping. Mostly, she watched the moon as it traveled through the sky. The night sky was very pretty, and she wondered vaguely if she had ever noticed just how pretty it was before she lost her memories. She wondered what she had been like, what kind of people she had hung around. She wondered about her parents and if she had any brothers or sisters or even a boyfriend out there somewhere. She wondered how in the world she had hurt her ear, which was still ringing a bit. Mostly, she just wondered if she was ever going to get her memories back.

Suddenly, she realized something that made her train of thought come to a screeching halt. She was humming. Or she _had_ been humming before she realized it and stopped. It had been something that she had done absentmindedly, but it had definitely been a tune of some sort.

She concentrated hard, trying to remember the tune she had just been humming, but the memory vanished from her mind like a cloud of smoke in the wind. She thought that maybe if she started humming again, the tune would just come to her. After about thirty seconds of that, she realized that it wasn't going to happen and that she just felt silly doing it. She figured that it must have been some memory lodged in the dark corners of her mind. Maybe it was a subconscious thing.

She settled for trying not to think about it. If she didn't think about it, maybe she would somehow do it again, and maybe this time she'd remember something. However, it was easier said than done because the harder she tried to forget about it, the more she actually _thought_ about it. It was so frustrating that she wanted to scream.

It took forever, but the stars slowly started to fade from the sky, which was turning a pale purple as morning approached. Rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand, she looked down at the person whose turn it was to be watching her. He lay on the ground not too far away from the wall with his arms behind his head and his face pointed towards her.

She was too far up to see if he was actually awake or not, or to recognize any of his facial features, but the leather straps on the boy's left leg let her know that it was Nick. She knew that that was where he kept a small knife sheathed.

A few minutes later, she noticed that a small group of boys were walking from the Homestead. There were four of them, though she couldn't make out who they were. She watched as they went different directions, each one heading for one of the four walls. The one that ran over to the East wall let her know that Nick was awake, as he had started talking to him.

The boy looked up occasionally, and he seemed to be stretching. From the mop of blonde hair on the boy's head, the girl guessed that it was Newt.

"All right there, Greenie?" he finally called up to her.

Yup. It was definitely Newt.

She squinted at him curiously, wondering what he and the other three boys were doing up before everyone else.

"I thought you agreed not to talk to me!" she called back down to him, remembering what he had told her.

Newt let out a small laugh.

"Brace yourself!"

The girl furrowed her brow at his remark.

"Wh—"

She was interrupted by a loud boom before she could get the first word out of her mouth. Startled, she let go of the vines she was holding, and the vines wrapped around her body tightened painfully as they now supported her full body weight. She just hung there, clamping her hands over her left ear that had a pain shoot through it from the loud grinding sounds the wall was making.

The wall rumbled and shook. She feared for a few moments that the ivy would break loose.

 _What a way to die,_ she thought, _splattered on the ground and all wrapped in ivy._

Looking down, she watched in utter confusion as Newt ran out of the still opening wall. She scoffed. Once the wall had stopped opening, she looked down at Nick.

"Hey!" she yelled at him, though she wasn't sure she had yelled it loud enough because her left ear was ringing loudly.

Nick looked up at her.

"How come _they_ get to leave?" she shouted; to her, this only reiterated the idea that they were keeping her here for no good reason.

Nick only shook his head and walked away. Everyone was now waking up, and he figured that with everyone awake, and with it being daylight, someone was bound to spot her if she chose to finally climb down. The girl frowned at him as he walked away.

A couple of hours passed, and she was starting to get hungry. Her stomach growled and rumbled, begging for some form of sustenance. She tried to ignore it. She was busy studying every inch of the Glade.

She watched the boys as they went about their daily routines. They were hard workers, she'd give them that. But that didn't mean she had to like them. As she looked around at the ivy covered walls and lush grass and yellow flowers, she finally realized how beautiful the Glade was. She frowned at the thought; she still wanted out.

After another half hour, she really needed to pee. She looked over at the West wall, its exit shrouded by the Deadheads. She would have to go back to her plan from before; sneak into the forest in the middle of the day and escape through the West exit. But to do that, she would have to gain enough trust to be left alone for more than five minutes. Of course, she figured that whenever she finally got down, she'd be headed for the Slammer, and after staying up on the wall all night, who knew how long it would be before Nick decided to let her out.

Of course, to enact her grand plan, she needed to actually come down, and sooner was probably going to be better than later. However, her proud nature was having a hard time agreeing to that. She sighed.

"I can't stay up here forever," she said aloud, trying to coax herself to choke down her pride.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. A small breeze blew past, rustling the leaves on the ivy and causing her hair to tickle her face. Despite her grumbling stomach and full bladder, and other than the fact that she was losing feeling in her lower legs, she felt kind of relaxed.

 _Five minutes,_ she thought to herself.

For a second, she almost didn't catch it, but when she did, her eyes snapped open. She had been humming again.

Once more, she tried to cling to the tune inside her head. But it slipped away again, causing her to curse under her breath. But before she had time to think on it any longer, she heard a rustle of leaves and a clicking noise.

She snapped her head to the right. All she caught was a red light and a flash of silver as it scurried away—whatever "it" was.

That was the last push she needed to finally start unwrapping herself from the vines. She had to admit, it felt kind of nice to finally be rid of the vines. The best part was feeling the blood begin to rush back to her legs.

She didn't bother looking to see if anybody noticed her. She promptly turned to face the wall, and started to climb down. It was almost weird to be on solid ground again.

As soon as she turned around, she almost ran into Nick, who was already waiting for her. He didn't say anything, he just grabbed her under her arm and started to pull her along.

"Alright, alright, I know you're mad—" Nick let out a humorless laugh, "but, I really, _really_ need to go to the bathroom."

She managed to wrench her arm away from him. He glared at her.

"Look, you can lock me in your little dirt cage for however long you want, but I've been hanging on a wall for over twelve hours now—"

"Yes, and that's _your_ fault," Nick grumbled, grabbing for her arm again.

She stepped away from him, and she could see the muscles in his jaw tic.

"Listen here, you shank," Nick seethed, poking a finger at her. "I don't have any patience whatsoever left for you. So you can either _walk_ there, or I will carry you there myself."

She scowled at his finger as it poked her hard in the shoulder. She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes.

"If you do that, I _will_ pee on you," she threatened.

Nick shook his head and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Fine!" he said, grabbing her roughly by the arm once more, but this time he pulled her towards the Homestead.

Leading her to a room in the back, Nick grumbled and cursed under his breath. Finally, he flung open a door and pushed her in. She was surprised to find that they had an actual working toilet. She turned to close the door, but Nick flung his hand out to stop it from closing.

"Are you kidding me?" the girl asked.

Nick glanced at the bathroom window and then back to her.

"After the stunt you pulled? No."

Nick stood in the open doorway of the bathroom with his back to her, making sure that she wasn't about to make a break for it. The girl rolled her eyes.

"Do you have to stand right there?" she asked.

"You have exactly one minute starting now," he said.

"But—"

"Fifty-nine, fifty-eight, fifty-seven…" Nick counted off loudly, drowning out her voice.

"Okay, okay, okay!" she said, hurrying to unbutton her shorts.

She sat on the toilet awkwardly.

"So," she said in a lingering voice, "you escort all the _Greenies_ to the bathroom, or do you just really like me that much?"

"I swear, if you don't shut up—"

"Fine," she said, "just trying to make this a little less awkward."

They fell into silence, followed shortly by the tinkling sound of her urinating.

 _Well, this is humiliating,_ she thought as she grabbed a roll of toilet paper.

After she was done, she walked towards the old, stained sink. However, Nick had turned around and pulled her from the bathroom.

"Geez, I was just gonna wash my hands," she said. "Or is hygiene a crime here?"

Nick did not find her funny in the slightest. He found her arrogant and proud, and she had gotten on his last nerve a long time ago. And she hadn't even been here a complete twenty-four hours yet.

Nick pulled her towards the Slammer, and she avoided the stares of the Gladers as the two of them crossed the Glade. Nick practically shoved her into the cell and slammed the cage door as hard as he could.

"You never answered my question," she said as Nick fiddled with the lock. "How come those guys were allowed to leave, but I'm not?"

Nick gave her a hard look before clicking the lock and walking away.

"That's alright," she called after him sarcastically, "I didn't really wanna know anyway."

When Nick continued to walk away without so much as a glance back in her direction, she sighed before sitting on the ground of the cell, trying to remember the mystery tune she had been humming earlier that day.


	5. Bread and Water

**_Previously:_**

 _Nick pulled her towards the Slammer, and she avoided the stares of the Gladers as the two of them crossed the Glade. Nick practically shoved her into the cell and slammed the cage door as hard as he could._

 _"You never answered my question," she said as Nick fiddled with the lock. "How come those guys were allowed to leave, but I'm not?"_

 _Nick gave her a hard look before clicking the lock and walking away._

 _"That's alright," she called after him sarcastically, "I didn't really wanna know anyway."_

 _When Nick continued to walk away without so much as a glance back in her direction, she sighed before sitting on the ground of the cell, trying to remember the mystery tune she had been humming earlier that day._

* * *

After a few minutes, she gave up on trying to remember. Her stomach ached something awful, and her ear was still ringing; though thankfully, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. She was so tired that she had taken to laying on the dirt floor and staring at the ceiling.

The boredom was killing her. At least on the wall, she had had a nice view. She had so many questions that had no answers. Who put her there? And why? What was outside of those stupid walls? Why wouldn't the Gladers let her out there? Why in the world could she not remember her name? All the other Gladers did; it wasn't fair. It was like she had no identity.

Five minutes passed, and she fell asleep, humming to herself without realizing it.

About an hour later, she was woken up by someone rattling the cage door of the Slammer. She sat up and rubbed at her sleepy eyes with the heels of her hands.

"Greenie."

 _"Alby,"_ she said, imitating his curt greeting.

Alby rolled his eyes and sat down in front of the door.

"The Boss letting me out already?" she teased. "I knew he'd warm up to me."

"Don't kid yourself, shuck-face," Alby said, pulling out a water bottle and some bread. "It's lunchtime."

He passed the bread and water through the gaps between the rails in the door. She took it and looked at it bitterly before focusing back on the boy.

"So my punishment is starving to death?" she asked. "I _know_ you guys have better food than this."

"Shut up and eat it," Alby said.

She bit into the bread.

"Mmm," she said in a faux excited tone, "stale bread. My _favorite._ "

Alby didn't respond. He just sat there, picking at a few blades of grass.

The girl choked down her first bite and popped open her water bottle.

"Hey, how long am I gonna be in here?" she asked before taking a sip.

"Don't know. Nick's pretty ticked. Of course, I don't blame him after all the klunk you've pulled."

She rolled her eyes, nibbling on her piece of bread again.

"Hey, I didn't ask to be here. If you guys would've let me leave when I first got here, everything would've been fine," she said.

"Shank, you don't know nothin'," Alby said. "You would've been dead within five minutes."

"Why? What's out there?" she asked.

Alby shook his head, standing up and brushing off his pants.

"Nuh-uh, no way. That's Nick's job; I ain't good at explaining those kinda things."

And without further elaboration, Alby walked away. She scowled at his retreating figure as she tore at her bread with her teeth. It may have been slightly stale, but right then, it was the best thing she had tasted.

After she was finished with it, she grabbed her water and got up from the ground. She stared at some of the Gladers as they went back to their work. She was so bored that she was kind of starting to wish that maybe someone would come talk to her. She would rather it be someone like that Frankie kid, but at this point, she'd take Alby again or even Nick. But of course, it wouldn't be solitary if she had a companion.

She thought about what Alby had said. Were they really just trying to keep her safe by not letting her leave? She found herself scoffing at the idea. She didn't need them protecting her; she could handle herself.

 _I bet it's because I'm a girl,_ she thought bitterly, but then again, she really had no clue; maybe this was how they treated all the new kids.

She shrugged to herself and sat back down, taking another sip of her water. She guessed she hadn't really given them much reason to like her all too well.

 _Well, the feeling's mutual._

The only thing she had to do was sleep; after being awake all night, she was really tired, even after her hour long nap. So with her stomach a little less grumbly, sleep is exactly what she did.

After a few hours of helping out in the gardens, Nick finally decided to go check on their new, pain-in-the-ass Greenie. When he reached the Slammer, he bent down, resting on his haunches in front of the door.

She was lying on the ground, her back towards him. She had balled up her blue shirt and placed it under her head as a makeshift pillow. Both the white tank top that she had had on under the shirt and her shorts were now smudged with dirt as though she had rolled around for minutes, trying to get comfortable before finally falling asleep. Her dark hair was all tangled, and it had a few pieces of grass sticking out of it.

Nick sighed. She couldn't have been more than fourteen or fifteen. And though she was arrogant and stubborn and a pain, he felt bad for her; he felt bad for all the Greenies when they got to the Glade. Of course, it had to be a little harder on her, being the only girl; he had to imagine it probably added to the whole fear factor of it all. He just wished she would realize that they weren't the bad guys, that they were stuck here too.

He squinted up at the sky. They still had a couple more hours before the Runners got back and the walls closed. He rattled the door of the Slammer lightly.

"Hey, Greenie."

The girl groaned, stirring a little before finally propping herself up on one arm, still not facing him.

"You know, I was just having a wonderful dream, and you ruined it," she mumbled as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Yeah, right. What about?" Nick said.

She sat up completely and started brushing off her tank top, only making the smudges worse. She grabbed her shirt and shook it out.

"About a whole banquet of food," she said as she pulled the shirt over her head.

She stared at him with tired eyes.

"Well? What'd ya come over for?" she asked. "Let me guess; I'm not allowed to sleep."

Nick rolled his eyes at her sarcastic tone.

"I don't care what you do as long as you aren't breaking the rules," he told her. "I was just checking up on you."

She pulled her legs up, resting her arms on her knees.

"I don't _need_ you to check up on me," she said, "contrary to what you believe," she added for good measure.

He sighed in a exasperated way as he shook his head at her.

"Now, was that comment necessary?"

"I don't know," she said, "was standing in the doorway while I used the bathroom _necessary?_ "

"Fair enough," Nick said, thinking that maybe he had been just a _little_ overbearing.

"Well, since you're here, when are you gonna let me out?" she asked.

"I was thinking the day after tomorrow."

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed.

"Sorry, Greenie," Nick said in a voice that let her know that he wasn't really sorry at all. "You broke the rules. You're not supposed to leave the Glade."

"Technically, I _didn't_ leave, so you can't really punish me," she countered.

" _Technically,_ I'm in charge, and I can do whatever I want."

"That's a pretty nice high horse you're riding," she half-teased. "Mind if I borrow it sometime?"

"Ha ha," Nick said in a caustic tone, but she glanced up at him and caught just the slightest hint of a smile.

She decided to push her luck.

"So can I get something to eat? I'm still starving after that poor excuse of a lunch."

Nick finally sat down on the soft grass, and the corners of girl's lips twitched upward.

"You'll eat what we give ya," he said. "And supper's not until the Runners get back."

"Runners?" she asked.

Nick sighed just a little, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Those are the guys I saw this morning, aren't they? Newt and the other guys—the guys you let leave," she guessed aloud in a sort of accusing tone.

"Look, kid, they only leave because it's their job," Nick said. "You see, out there, it's like a giant maze; they run it everyday, mapping it, looking for a way out."

She furrowed her brow at this new information, not really sure what to think of it. This definitely made escaping a lot harder than she had previously thought it would be.

"They've been doing that for seven months?" she finally asked. "And they haven't found anything? How _big_ is it?"

"Pretty massive," Nick said, "and there's probably a lot we haven't even explored yet, but that's not the only thing that makes it hard. Every night when those walls close, the Maze changes."

"Now, you're just trying to scare me," she said.

"You're telling me that after seeing these walls open and close, you don't think it can happen out there?" Nick said.

She opened her mouth to say something but was at a loss for words. He had a point.

"But who put us here?" she finally asked.

Nick shrugged.

"No clue. We call them the Creators."

"Well– someone's gotta be looking for us. There's no way thirty-something families aren't looking for their kids," she said, hoping that maybe she would be rescued any day now if she didn't manage to escape first.

"Is that right?" Nick said. "Tell me something, Greenie, do you even remember your family?"

The question made her feel a bit hopeless on the inside.

"No, but—"

"Then how do you know they're looking for you? Hell, our families could've sent us here for all we know."

"Well, if that's true, this is the crappiest summer camp ever," she said, and Nick let out a tiny chuckle.

"No argument there," Nick said.

They sat in silence for a few moments before she finally said something.

"So what's a girl gotta do to be a Runner around these parts?"

Nick really laughed at that.

"Shank, after all the klunk you've done, you think I'm gonna let you into the Maze? You must be shucked in the head."

"Well, why not?" she protested. "I can run and draw a map."

"No way, Greenie."

"It's 'cause I'm a girl, isn't it?" she accused.

"It's because you get on my nerves, shuck-face," he said, "I don't care _what_ gender you are."

"Come on, if those guys haven't found anything yet, maybe you should get someone else to go have a look," she said.

"Not _you,_ " he said. "Besides, it's a lot harder than you think it is, and it's dangerous out there."

"If it's so dangerous, why do you let anyone go out there?" she asked, not really believing him.

"Because we have to find a way out, don't we," he said. "But you can go ahead and forget about it, because you're never setting foot out there."

"I don't think you're giving me a very fair chance."

"Oh, you mean like how you're giving _us_ a fair chance?" Nick asked sarcastically.

The girl opened her mouth to say something, but she had nothing to say back to that. He kind of had a point.

"You reap what you sow, Greenie," he said, finally standing up, brushing off his shorts.

She wanted to stop him from leaving. She didn't want to go back to sitting around with nothing to do. However, she just watched him walk away. She figured he would probably leave anyway, probably say something about needing to get back to work.

She stood up and watched him walk to the gardens. Then, she sighed, plopping back down on the ground.

 _A maze,_ she thought to herself. _Well, that's just great. How the hell am I supposed to get out of here now?_

She contemplated it for a while. Still, her best bet was just going out there, if not only to look around. She would stay out there all night if she had to.

She ran her hands through her hair, trying to comb out the knots and tangles.

 _What I wouldn't give for a shower_ _right now,_ she thought; she felt grimy and sweaty, and she _really_ needed some deodorant because she was starting to smell.

She kind of had to use the bathroom again, but she figured she could hold it until someone came back to give her something to eat. She crossed her arms and leaned against the back of the cell. She let herself get lost in her thoughts, and a few times, she caught herself humming again. But of course, she still couldn't pin down the tune.

Almost two hours later, as the sun started to hang low in the sky, she noticed someone run past the Slammer. Curious, she stood up and saw that the Runners had gotten back. She watched as they each ran into the concrete building near the Box Hole, the door slamming shut behind them. She figured that that was where they kept all their maps.

She knew finding her way out of the Maze would be a lot easier with some of those maps. However, she also knew that there was probably no way in hell that she would get into that building unnoticed. It was too out in the open to sneak into.

Several minutes later, that growingly familiar loud boom echoed through the Glade. She covered her left again, though she noticed that it didn't hurt nearly as much as it had the first couple of times. However, the ringing still came back at full force.

Her stomach grumbled as she watched the Gladers all sit and eat their dinner. Her mouth almost watered at the idea of what they might be eating. She had to imagine it was way better than bread and water.


	6. Reflections

**_Previously:_**

 _Almost two hours later, as the sun started to hang low in the sky, she noticed someone run past the Slammer. Curious, she stood up and saw that the Runners had gotten back. She watched as they each ran into the concrete building near the Box Hole, the door slamming shut behind them. She figured that that was where they kept all their maps._

 _She knew finding her way out of the Maze would be a lot easier with some of those maps. However, she also knew that there was probably no way in hell that she'd get into that building unnoticed. It was too out in the open to sneak into._

 _Several minutes later, that growingly familiar loud boom echoed through the Glade. She covered her left again, though she noticed that it didn't hurt nearly as much as it had the first couple of times. However, the ringing still came back at full force._

 _Her stomach grumbled as she watched the Gladers all sit and eat their dinner. Her mouth almost watered at the idea of what they might be eating. She had to imagine it was way better than bread and water._

* * *

She sat back down on the ground again, leaning against the back of the cell once more. Closing her eyes, she waited for her dinner to arrive; maybe this time she would get two servings of bread. She could only hope.

 _This is what my life has become,_ she thought, _wishing for stale bread._

The thought almost made her laugh because she really had no idea what her life had been like before this. Who knew? Maybe stale bread was a step up from what her life had been, though she had a hard time believing that. She seemed too healthy to have been malnourished before she got there.

She found herself wondering what she looked like, as she still didn't really know. She opened her eyes and looked down at her arms. Freckles were lightly dusted over the tops of them. Her fingernails had dirt caked under them and looked as if they had been habitually chewed on for some time now. Her hands were soft (other than the small blisters she had acquired from climbing up the wall), and she figured she had never really done any hard working in her past life. She looked down at her legs, rubbing dirt off of them as she did. Pulling up the shorts she was wearing just a bit, she noticed faint stretch marks on the outsides of her thighs, probably just caused by growing up. Her knees were knobby, scraped up from the wall climb. She noticed a small scar on her right shin. She wondered vaguely how she had gotten it and how long ago. Perhaps it was caused by a childhood accident. Or maybe it was something else. It was a bit trivial, but she wished she knew. Just remembering that one single thing would make her feel better; it would make her feel just a little less lost on the inside.

She reached up with one hand and felt her face, trying to maybe get an idea of what she looked like. She soon gave up on it. There was no way she was going to know what she looked like just by touching her face. She needed a mirror or some kind of reflective surface. She at least wanted to know what color her eyes were.

She finally had to stop thinking about it. It just made her feel worse knowing that she knew absolutely nothing about herself. She leaned her head against the back of the cell, closing her eyes as she felt her tear ducts sting.

She didn't want to cry, not now. She didn't want to fall apart. She had been trying to avoid it ever since she'd gotten here, covering up how terrified she really felt with sarcasm and by trying to act tougher than she knew she actually was. She didn't want the Gladers to know just how close she was to losing it at any given moment.

She took a few deep breaths, calming herself. She crossed her arms and sighed. She waited and waited for about ten more minutes before someone finally came.

"Hey, Greenie, what're you humming?"

Her eyes snapped open at Newt's words. She had been humming again? She hadn't noticed.

"I see you decided to come down today," he said, passing a water bottle and some bread through the cage door for her to take.

"What'd it sound like?" she asked quickly, ignoring his comment and the food that her stomach had been aching for only seconds ago.

Newt gave her a bewildered look.

"What?"

"What I was humming," she said impatiently, "what'd it sound like?"

Newt shrugged.

"I don't know? It sounded like you humming. I wasn't paying _that_ much bloody attention," he said.

She sighed, her body slumping in a hopeless sort of way. Newt shot her a strange look.

"So do you want to eat, or is starving yourself on the list of crazy things you do?" he asked, waving the bread and water at her.

She rolled her eyes before getting up and taking her dinner from him.

"Where's Nick?" she asked, biting into her bread; she had really been expecting him or Alby to bring her dinner.

Newt plopped down on the ground.

"Talking to the Keepers."

"About what?"

Newt let out a little laugh.

"About _you,_ that's bloody what," he said. "He's making sure they know to keep an eye on you whenever you get out."

She scoffed.

"That's ridiculous," she muttered.

"No, what's ridiculous is hanging on a wall all night," Newt countered.

She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of the water. Wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked back up at him.

"So find anything new in the _Maze_ today?" she asked.

A brief look of hopelessness flashed across Newt's features, but he covered it with a smirk, and the girl didn't seem to notice.

"I see you've been filled in," he said.

"I have, and I've been wondering what it takes to make Nick think that I could be a Runner," she said, figuring that Newt could give her some insight on the job.

Newt frowned and shook his head before looking down at his hands.

"You don't want to be a Runner, trust me," he said.

She could have laughed, but she didn't.

"Trust _me,_ " she said, "I really do."

"Well, that's tough because you don't have the bloody chops to be a Runner, Greenie."

She scoffed in offense at his remark, visibly affronted. How did _he_ know what she could and couldn't do? Newt almost laughed at the look on her face.

"Look, Greenie, I'm sure can run just fine, and even if you couldn't, you could train yourself, but being a Runner means being calm and calculated."

She opened her mouth, but Newt cut her off before she could get a single word out.

"Face it, Greenie, you're as impulsive as they get. We can't have time bombs like you running off into the Maze; that's how people get killed."

She frowned.

"Okay, but what if I proved that I can be _calm_ and _calculated?_ " she asked. "Then, could I—"

"You don't get it, do you, shuck-face?" Newt said. "There's no _proving_ yourself you either have what it takes, or you don't. You don't, and that's that."

She scowled at him.

"If you work hard like everyone else, I'm sure you'll find a job that suits you just fine. If you don't, you'll be a Slopper, cleaning up everyone's bloody messes with the other shanks that can't really do anything," he told her.

"Well, that's just not fair," she complained.

"It's _completely_ fair. You're just being bratty and unreasonable," he said, getting up from his spot on the ground. "Which is why you'll never be a Runner. Who knows? Maybe you'll be a Builder. You'd probably get along with Gally; he thinks he runs the Glade too."

She didn't know what to say; she only looked at him with her mouth hanging open slightly. He had been very blunt with his assessment of her, and some part of her knew he was right. She _was_ impulsive and maybe a bit bratty too. However, being compared to Gally was what really got to her.

Newt turned and walked away from her. What he had said had been the truth, and she had needed to hear it. She had needed to be knocked down a few notches. They didn't need another Gally running around the Glade, one was plenty.

The girl watched him leaving, and a thought from earlier came back to haunt her.

"Wait!" she called to him.

Newt sighed and stopped walking. He turned back to look at her, but he stayed where he was.

"What now?"

"I just have one more question," she said.

Newt let out a small laugh and shook his head.

"I think you've asked enough questions for today, Greenie."

"Please, wait!" she begged as he turned away again.

"Look, Greenie, I'm tired, and I need a shower. I'll talk to you when you get out, maybe your attitude will have changed."

And with that, he walked away towards the Homestead, ignoring her as she pleaded for him to come back.

She sighed and leaned her forehead against the cage door, that hopeless feeling returning. She had only wanted to ask what color her eyes were.

Sitting back down on the ground to finish eating, she figured it probably would have sounded like a stupid question anyway. They already thought she was a lunatic, she didn't want to add "superficial" to the list.

As she ate, she reflected on what Newt had said. Was that really what they thought about her? Did they see her as some insufferable girl that freaked out every time she didn't get her way? She guessed that that was how she had been behaving.

Why _shouldn't_ they see her like that? She had acted like a complete psycho from the moment she'd gotten there. She hadn't given them a fair chance, but she had expected them to give her what she asked for without question.

 _Why should I care what they think_ _of me?_ a small voice in the back of her head asked.

She silenced it quickly because whether or not she should care what they thought, she cared what _she_ thought. And right now, after reflecting on it all, she didn't really like herself all too much either.

She tried to savor the bread, eating it slowly. She had many more hours to go until breakfast; she needed to make it last. She went slow on the water too because she still needed to use the bathroom.

It was getting darker outside, and the first few stars were starting to shine in the sky when Nick finally came to check on her. She was still thinking about what Newt had said earlier.

"You gonna be alright for the night, Greenie?" Nick asked.

She stretched, shaking her thoughts away.

"Kinda need to use the bathroom again," she told him.

Nick nodded, pulling out a key and unlocking the door. He held out a hand to her, and she almost swatted it away. Instead, she swallowed her pride just a bit and grabbed it, letting him help her out of the Slammer. Nick seemed to take notice at her slight change of personality.

"You alright, Greenie?" he asked, a small smirk playing at his lips.

She brushed some dirt off of her shorts, furrowing her brow just a bit.

"Yeah, why?"

Nick shrugged as he walked her to the Homestead.

"Nothing. It's just, you haven't said anything sarcastic yet. I'm surprised."

She rolled her eyes.

"Well, I didn't realize you'd miss it so much."

He let out a little laugh.

" _There_ it is," he said.

She smiled a bit in spite of herself.

"So I heard you've been talking about me," she said as they reached the steps of the Homestead. "It's not nice to talk about a lady behind her back."

"Well, in that case, you've got nothing to worry about, shank, because you're the furthest thing from a _lady_ there is."

She scoffed.

"I'm not even totally convinced she's a _girl,_ " came a voice from inside the Homestead as they walked in.

She narrowed her eyes at Gally, not able to think of a particularly witty enough comeback at the moment. She looked at Nick, whose lips had twitched upwards just a bit at Gally's gibe towards her. She frowned and pushed her way past Nick to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

She sighed as she unbuttoned her shorts.

 _You're being a brat again,_ she thought to herself. _It was only a joke._

Of course, the little voice in her head was right. And if she remembered correctly, she had been less than friendly the first time she had met Gally.

She washed her hands when she was finished, scowling at the empty wall above the sink where a mirror could have been hanging. She _still_ had no clue what she looked like, and she was beginning to think that maybe she never would.

Opening the bathroom door, she found Nick waiting just outside.

"Gally was only messing around with you, Greenie," he said. "There was no need for storming off."

"I know," she said.

 _Apologize,_ she told herself.

She scowled at her shoes.

"I'm sorry," she said just above a whisper.

Nick looked at her, shocked.

"What?"

"Well, I'm not saying it again, that's for sure," she said, and Nick only shook his head, smiling.

"You know what, Greenie?" Nick said as he walked her back to the Slammer. "I'm beginning to think that you and I might actually get along after all."

She smirked a bit.

"Does that mean you might rethink me being a Runner?"

Nick let out a laugh.

"No way, Greenie. I mean, I get along well enough with Gally too; that doesn't mean he'll ever be anything other than a Builder."

She frowned as Nick pulled open the Slammer door for her.

"What is it with you people comparing me to him?" she asked, climbing into the cell.

"No, you're right," Nick said, closing the door and clicking the lock shut. "It's completely unfair...to Gally."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Greenie, lighten up. That was funny."

"Yeah, you're a real riot."

She had tried to make it sound sarcastic, but the smile that crept onto her face gave her away. Nick grinned.

"Well, sleep tight," he said, clapping his hands together. "Breakfast's right after the doors open. See ya then."

"Wait, where're you going?" she asked, not wanting to sit there all alone in the growing darkness.

"To bed."

"Bit early for bed, isn't it?"

"Well, we have early starts, Greenie. Don't worry, you'll get used to the schedule soon enough," he assured her.

"Well, you could stay a little longer," she pushed. "I still have a few more questions about this place anyway. Besides, I'm bored."

"That's the point, Greenie. Punishment's not supposed to be social hour," he told her. "It's _supposed_ to suck."

"I know," she mumbled.

Nick looked around at the Glade before looking back at her.

"Alright, you've got five minutes," he said, finally sitting down on the grass.

The girl felt herself smile.

"Okay, so since you're so set on me not being a Runner—" she paused and looked at him before continuing, "—what other kind of jobs are there?"

"Well, you've got the Blood Housers, Track-hoes, Builders, Bricknicks, Baggers, Cooks, Sloppers—"

"You mind slowing down and telling me what half of those things even _mean?_ "

They talked for well over the five minutes that Nick had allotted her. They talked about the jobs and the Keepers and who was best at what. And for a moment, she started to think that maybe this place wasn't going to be so bad; maybe she would be okay here.

After a while, Nick yawned, finally remembering that he was supposed to be asleep like the other Gladers were right now.

"Get some sleep, you shank," Nick said to her.

As he made to get up, she thought about whether or not she should ask her last question.

"Nick?"

"Yeah, Greenie?"

She took in a deep breath, letting it out as a sigh.

"A got another question. And it's gonna sound stupid and ridiculous and all sorts of superficial. And you're probably gonna laugh—"

"Probably," he agreed, teasing her.

She paused for a second, chewing on the inside of her mouth. Nick waited patiently.

"What color are my eyes?" she finally asked.

Nick just blinked at her. Of all the questions he had been expecting, that was not it. She quickly tried to explain herself when he didn't answer.

"I just– it'd be nice to know something about myself," she said, not daring to meet his eyes as her face burned red from the embarrassing question. "You know, I just kinda feel like a stranger to myself."

Nick nodded. He knew what she meant. _All_ the Gladers did. At some point, they all wanted to know what they looked like. Besides their names, it was all they had left of themselves.

"Hang on, okay?"

And without further explanation, Nick walked off. She sat there in silence, mentally kicking herself.

 _Stupid question,_ she thought to herself over and over again. _Stupid, stupid question._

A few minutes later, she saw Nick returning. In one hand, he carried what appeared to be a small oil lamp, and in the other, a pot maybe? Yes, it was a pot she decided as he got closer.

Nick knelt on the ground and unlocked the door of the Slammer.

"Here, go ahead and have a look," he said, handing her the metal pot he had gotten from the kitchen.

Nick held the lamp a bit closer to her. She stared at her reflection, studying it. She looked from her full cheeks to her thin lips and then up to her small, rounded nose that had freckles all across it. Looking up to her eyes, she opened them wide to see her irises. They were a brownish-green color that somewhere in her mind she knew to be called hazel. She had a rather plain face, nothing breathtaking, but that wasn't what made her frown at herself.

"Any bells ringing inside that head of yours?" Nick asked, noticing her frown.

She shook her head. She didn't look familiar at all. The face staring back at her might as well have belonged to someone else.

"No," she said, shoving the pot back towards Nick. "It's like I said; I'm a stranger."

Nick felt a bit of pity run through his mind for the girl as she lay down on the ground, her back facing him. He knew that hopeless feeling that she had; he and the other Gladers had all felt it; some of them still did every now and then.

"It gets better," he promised her quietly before closing the door and locking her in again.

The girl felt her bottom lip tremble a little at his words, and she bit it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt hot tears trickle out of the corners of her eyes.


	7. A Big Misunderstanding

_**Previously:**_

 _"Any bells ringing inside that head of yours?" Nick asked, noticing her frown._

 _She shook her head. She didn't look familiar at all. The face staring back at her might as well have belonged to someone else._

 _"No," she said, shoving the pot back towards Nick. "It's like I said; I'm a stranger."_

 _Nick felt a bit of pity run through his mind for the girl as she lay down on the ground, her back facing him. He knew that hopeless feeling that she had; he and the other Gladers had all felt it; some of them still did every now and then._

 _"It gets better," he promised her quietly before closing the door and locking her in again._

 _The girl felt her bottom lip tremble a little at his words, and she bit it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt hot tears trickle out of the corners of her eyes._

* * *

She had a hard time getting to sleep that night, but she finally did. It was a dreamless sleep, and when the loud boom of the walls opening woke her up in the morning, she felt as though she had not slept at all. She rubbed her eyes and just lay there, staring up at the ceiling of the Slammer.

"Rise and shine, Greenie," came Alby's voice.

She only groaned tiredly in response.

Alby unlocked the Slammer door and offered her his hand. She gave him a curious look.

"Time for breakfast," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow as she grabbed his hand, letting him help her out.

"I get to eat real food today?" she asked, brushing herself off. "You guys aren't starving me anymore?"

Alby shrugged.

"You're gonna need some energy if you're gonna be working today."

"What? I thought I wasn't getting out till tomorrow," she said, remembering what Nick had told her.

"Nick was talking to the Keepers last night, and he decided to let you out early."

"Seems like someone's getting a bit sweet on me," she teased as she walked with Alby towards the kitchens.

Alby rolled his eyes.

"Don't count on that, Greenie. There's work that needs doing, and you're not doing us any good by laying about all day in the Slammer. Besides, your lesson's been learned, right?"

She almost didn't hear him; she was too focused on the wonderful smell of bacon wafting through the air.

"Huh?" she asked, pulling herself away from the thought of food. "Oh, yeah, totally."

Alby gave her a wary look as she walked towards the line forming in front of the kitchens. He wasn't sure if he trusted her yet or not.

She had almost reached the line when a hand came down on her shoulder.

"You go last, Greenie," Gally said, pulling her back. "Seniority and all that."

She wrenched her shoulder away from his grip, whirling around to look up at his smug face.

"Says who, blockhead?" she snapped at him.

"Says me, _shank,_ " he said, smirking a bit as he pushed past her to stand in line for his breakfast.

She balled her fists in anger at the boy. She made to follow him, but a another hand lightly grabbed her arm to stop her.

"Slim yourself, Greenie. You just got outta the Slammer. You wanna go back in already?"

She turned to see a shock of red hair and blue eyes staring at her.

"I wasn't gonna do anything," she said. "But it'd be nice to know why he's such a frigging jerk all the time."

Frankie laughed a little.

"Man, if you think that's Gally being a jerk, you've got another thing coming," he said. "He's only messing with ya. You're the Greenie after all."

"Yeah, and the only girl," she muttered, wishing right then that there were another female in the Glade.

"For now," Frankie said as they stood in line for their food. "Who knows? Next month we might get another girl Greenie."

"I _hope,_ " she said.

She shocked herself when she said this. Since when did she resign herself to the idea that she would be here for that long? She was already getting too comfortable here, something she had not thought possible. She pushed the thought away as Frankie talked to her.

She enjoyed the breakfast: crunchy bacon, scrambled eggs, toast with jam, cold milk. Admittedly, she had hardly listened to a word Frankie said. She had just been so hungry; she couldn't really blame herself for not being able to focus on anything else.

"So you're not gonna try to get into the Maze again once you've got your belly full, are ya?" Frankie halfway teased.

She thought about the question before shaking her head.

"Nah, I think I'll let Nick and Alby have the day off from bringing me food and escorting me to the bathroom," she teased. "I mean, it's not like I'd get very far. According to what I've heard, I seem to be on probation; Keepers'll be watching me like a hawk."

She really meant it. Even if she did want to look around the Maze, she wouldn't be able to go very far without someone noticing.

"Good that," Frankie said. "If you end up getting yourself killed, I go back to being the newbie around here until we get a saner Greenie."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, smiling just a bit.

"Oh, shut up."

Frankie laughed.

"You know, you still haven't told me your name," he noted.

She felt her heart sink at the comment. She hadn't told _anybody_ her name. She still didn't know it.

Thankfully, she got out of the situation when Nick walked over to where they were sitting with another boy in tow.

"Enjoying your new-found freedom, I see," Nick said.

"I don't think being stuck in the Glade with you lot constitutes being _free,_ but I'll take it over the Slammer any day."

"Glad to hear it," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. "Greenie, this is Winston. You'll be working with him at the Blood House today."

She frowned at the idea.

"I'm not gonna have to kill anything, am I?" she asked, the look of disgust evident on her face.

"You like eating it well enough," Winston commented, nodding to her empty plate.

Her stomach twisted when she thought about it.

"Just work hard, and the day'll be over before you know it," Nick said. "And who knows? Maybe you'll like the Blood House."

 _I find that highly unlikely,_ she thought, the disgusted look not leaving her face.

"So when can I actually bathe? I feel disgusting," she said, grimacing at all the dirt on her and her clothes.

"You look it too," Nick stated bluntly. "But you'll get a shower after a hard day's work. You have to earn those privileges."

"Don't worry if you smell," Winston said. "Won't be able to smell you over the Blood House anyway."

"Great to know," she muttered sarcastically.

"Well, you're done eating, so get a move on," Nick said. "Look after her, Winston."

"Good luck," Frankie said as she reluctantly stood up.

"Alright, Greenie, let's go," Winston said, spinning on his heel and walking away, the girl following him.

He led her to a barn near the Blood House. He showed her around for about a hour, telling her what went where in the barn, walking her outside to show her which pens held what animals, showing her where the chicken and turkey coops were. A black lab stayed right under them the entire time.

"Where'd the dog come from?" she had finally asked Winston.

"That's Bark," he had told her. "He's just always sort of been here. Pesky little thing sometimes."

"What kind of name is _Bark?_ " she had asked, petting the dog.

Winston had only shrugged and continued with the tour. He wasn't a very exciting person to be around. In fact, he kind of creeped her out a bit. When he got to showing her where they sliced up the animals, he seemed to enjoy talking about it a little too much for her liking. And the idea of having to do that, or even watch it, made her feel queasy.

Luckily, that wasn't what she was doing just then. Of course, she didn't consider scraping up animal crap to be the highlight of her day, but she would choose it over cutting up animals every time.

After scooping the last pile up and tossing it into a bucket, she finally stood up straight and wiped some sweat from her brow. She hated this job. She looked around the Glade at all the other workers. Of course, there were a few people helping her with the animals, but not many. She guessed that other than being a Slopper, this was the job that hardly anyone wanted.

She looked longingly at the forest, behind which lay the West entrance to the Maze. If she could only just peek her head inside; she wouldn't go too far, just poke around a bit.

"Hey, Greenie!"

The girl closed her eyes and sighed, turning to a boy she had been working with.

"Quit klunking around," he said.

She motioned at the fairly clean ground around her.

"I'm done," she told him.

The boy grumbled something as he walked towards her. Yanking the shovel out of her hand, he then pointed to the bucket she had been shoveling shit into for the past thirty minutes.

"Then, take it to the gardens," he said, as though she were already supposed to have known to do this. "You think the plants fertilize themselves? And then, get back here; there's a gate that needs fixing."

"Isn't that, like, the Builders' or Bricknicks' job?" she asked.

"No, it's _your_ job. Your job is whatever I tell you it is."

She narrowed her eyes, thought very intelligently about not saying anything, and then did so anyways.

"Technically, my job is whatever _Winston_ says it is," she said, sounding braver than she felt as she stood next to the guy who was a good head and a half taller than her. "And you don't look like Winston to me."

He snarled. See, ever since she had gotten out of the Slammer and started to actually interact with the Gladers, she figured out really quick that a lot of them didn't like her all that much. She guessed that first impressions _were_ everything, and she had managed to screw hers up royally. Well, at least there was Frankie. That kid was _always_ nice to her.

"How about you either do what I tell you, or I bash your stupid skull in with this shovel?" he said threateningly.

Her common sense was telling her to just do what he said because there was something about him that made her believe he would actually do it and that the next Greenie would be scraping up her brains instead of pig shit. And with the same shovel that killed her. Now, that's irony. However, hadn't she already established what an idiot she was?

"Thought it was against the rules to hurt a Glader," she blurted out sarcastically, that little voice inside her head screaming at her to just shut the hell up.

The boy leaned closer.

"You ain't no Glader," he said. "You're a shank who thinks she's a princess and above all of this. And even if I do get punished for it, it'd be worth it to be rid of you."

She tried her hardest to match the angry stare he was giving her, but in all honesty, she was terrified of him. She wasn't nearly as brave as she pretended to be; in fact, she had a feeling that she was pretty much a coward underneath it all. Plus, that stupid little voice wasn't screaming at her anymore; it was now (quite annoyingly) telling her that he was right.

"You don't know anything about me."

It had not come out in the strong, caustic voice that she had intended. Instead, it was shaky and weak. The boy shook his head.

"I know all I need to know," he said. "Now, just do your job before I really _do_ hurt you."

With that, he had turned away, and she stood rooted to the spot for a few long seconds. Blinking rapidly, she steadied her breathing and look around to see if anybody had been watching them. A few other boys had stopped their work, but resumed again once she had caught them staring. She took a deep breath and turned swiftly on her heel. She grabbed up the bucket and made her way towards the gardens, happy to have an excuse to leave the boys she had been working with.

"Hey, Greenie," Frankie said cheerfully once he saw her. "How's the Blood House treating ya?"

She halfway threw the bucket on the ground. Frankie raised his brow.

"That good, huh?" he asked sarcastically.

"I hate it here," she said, leaning against one of the garden lattices.

"Don't say that, Greenie," Frankie said, going back to pulling weeds. "It's only still your first day working. So you don't belong in the Blood House; you'll find your place."

She rolled her eyes, but Frankie didn't see.

"Don't you wanna get out of this place?" she asked, not quite sure how any of them were this content.

Frankie nodded.

"Everyday," he said. "But that's why we have Runners. And until they find a way out of here, we all gotta do our part. Besides, it's not so bad here."

She gaped at him.

"We're trapped here against are will," she said. "Of _course,_ it's bad here. I mean, why are we even here in the first place?"

"I have a theory," Frankie said, furrowing his brow.

The girl shifted her weight to her other leg and stared at him curiously.

"Mind you, it ain't a good one."

"Well?"

"Prison."

She blinked.

"What? That's stupid," she said.

"You got a better idea?" Frankie asked.

"Well, yeah. We're being held captive by very wealthy psychopaths. Besides, we're just kids; what would we be doing in prison?"

Frankie took off one of his gardening gloves and raked his fingers through his red hair. He looked up at her, squinting because of the sun.

"Last I checked, _anybody_ can be a criminal."

The girl looked anxiously back at the boy who had threatened her just moments before, and she shuddered. Frankie pulled his glove on and went back to work, smiling.

"I wasn't really sure about it at first. But then, you came up, slinging knives and throwing fists, and I thought, 'Yup, we're in prison. That chick's definitely crazy.'"

The girl rolled her eyes, but she smiled in spite of herself.

"All the more reason to get the hell outta here," she said.

"Greenie!"

She jumped at the growingly familiar, angry voice.

"This gate ain't fixing itself!"

Frankie chuckled under his breath, and she scowled at him.

"Have fun," he said as she walked back towards the farm animals.

The girl's angry coworker just led her to the pen that held the goats and sheep. There was a large board leaning against the wire fencing with a few cinder blocks holding it up. The boy removed the cinder blocks and the board to reveal a hole. He threw some wire, pliers, and gloves on the ground in front of her.

"Get to work, shank."

She sighed and bent down to pick up the gloves. Once again, she looked up at the Deadheads. Maybe she should just make a run for it. Get to the Maze and hide and wait till the doors closed before she started looking around. She thought better of it though. After all, she wasn't the fastest person in the Glade, and she didn't want to spend any more time in the Slammer.

As it turned out, fixing the fence wasn't as terrible as she thought it would be. No one was bothering her, she wasn't having to stand, and twisting the wire around with the pliers was actually cathartic in a way. And when she had finished, she took a step back and admired the fact that she had done such an awesome job.

Then, she went to go find Winston, and she honestly wished that she hadn't. She was now being dragged to the _actual_ Blood House, and her stomach was already turning. It was now time for the part of this job that she doubted very seriously that she could handle.

She did even worse than she thought she would. As soon as Winston cut into that pig, she had to run out the door. Her stomach had lurched so violently that she was amazed that she even made it outside before vomiting. She could hear a few of her coworkers snickering, and she hated it here that much more. However, what she saw next, she hated even more.

She walked over to the fence that she had just patched up to find that the wire she had replaced had been ripped from the fence. Anger bubbled inside of her as she whipped around to face the Gladers working around her.

"Who the hell did this?" she demanded loudly.

A few of them looked up at her, but no one said anything. They knew; there was no way they had been working this closely and not noticed who had destroyed the only good thing she had managed to do all day.

"Didn't do too hot of a job on that fence, princess."

"You!" she accused, walking to her angry coworker from before. "You did this!"

"Don't know what you're talking about," he said

"You're a fucking liar," she said.

"I didn't touch your fence," he said, "but you need to slim it before I _make_ you."

"Oh, you're threatening me again?" she asked, her voice getting louder as she spoke. "Well, here's a new flash for you: I'm not scared of you."

It wasn't a complete lie. As it turns out, sometimes the more pissed you are at someone, the less afraid of them you become. She was sure the feeling would return though if he actually hit her.

The boy rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. She moved to grab his arm.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

He quickly turned around and shoved her to the ground where she landed with a hard thud.

"Touch me again, and I promise, I'll hurt you next time."

"What's going on over here?"

She had never been more thankful to hear Gally's voice, though she highly doubted he would help her. She scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off.

"Nothing," the boy said.

"Like hell," she said. "I spent a good half-hour working on that stupid fence, and someone ruined it. And I'm pretty sure it was this frigging jerk."

"I didn't do it," he said, "maybe you should ask someone else."

She opened her mouth to say something, but Gally spoke first.

"All the animals accounted for?"

The boy shrugged.

"I can check."

With that, he left to count the sheep and goats, leaving the girl with Gally. He gave her a stern look.

"You need to stop picking fights. Next time, I'm gonna let him pummel you into a pile of klunk."

"I wasn't picking a fight," she said heatedly. "Someone ruined what I just worked really hard on, and I was just trying to figure out who it was."

"And you think it's him because?"

"Because he's an asshole," she said as though this were hard-hitting evidence. "And he's made it pretty clear that he doesn't like me. He's already threatened me twice today, and it's not even lunchtime yet."

"You may not have noticed this, Greenbean, but there are a lot of people here that don't like you," Gally said.

"So what? I'm supposed to let them run all over me?"

"No, I'm just saying, it doesn't exactly _prove_ that he did anything. Did you see him do it?"

She let out a humorless laugh and shook her head.

"No, I was in the Blood House."

"There you go," Gally said. "You don't even know for sure it was him."

She opened her mouth but was interrupted once more, this time by the asshole's return.

"We're missing one of the baby goats," he said, and he gave the girl a harsh glare.

"What are you looking at me for?" she asked. "It's not my fault; I _fixed_ the hole in the fence just like you told me to!"

"Maybe you just didn't do as great of a job as you thought you did."

"That fence was perfect when I left it. I should know; I tested it myself," she defended.

"Enough," Gally said. "You, get back to work," he said pointing to the boy. "You, go find the goat," he said to the girl.

She gaped at him.

"What? This isn't my fault!" she said.

"Look, I don't care whose fault it is. I'm telling you to go find the goat, so you're gonna go find the goat. Got it, Greenie?"

"But I—"

"Go!"

She let out an annoyed huff and stalked off, going to look around the Glade for the missing baby goat. This was totally unfair. It should be that asshole looking for this dumb goat, not her. She was still convinced that he was the guilty one. It was a shame she had no proof. Even worse was the fact that when she walked past the kitchens, she could smell that Frypan and the other Cooks were already getting started on lunch. She needed to find that stupid goat and fast. There was no way she was about to miss out on lunch because of it. But hey, how hard could it really be to find a goat roaming the Glade?

Well, the answer was: harder than she thought it'd be. She had been searching for about fifteen whole minutes now. She had never really noticed just how big the Glade was, and right now, that wasn't helping her. Though, admittedly, when she went to search by the gardens, she had talked to Frankie for a good minute or two. In the cornfield, she kept running into Gladers who were working there that kept asking her what she was doing. If she had to grumble out the same answer one more time, she was going to scream. They all thought she was up to something, but of course, she couldn't really blame them. At this point, she kind of wished that she hadn't freaked out so badly when she had gotten out of the Box.

Out of the cornfield now, she sighed. Looking around, she brought her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. Finally, she saw the stupid thing, grazing on some grass not too far from the Deadheads.

 _About time,_ she thought to herself as she headed over to where the small goat was.

Now, all she had to do was catch it, return it, fix the fence (again), and lunch should be ready by the time she was done. Simple enough, right?

Wrong.

The damn thing ran from her, heading into the trees. And she took off after it.

She wasn't sure how exactly she had managed it, but she'd caught it. She was now breathing very heavily, holding a baby goat tightly in her arms. A few twigs and leaves were sticking out of her hair at odd angles.

"I hate you," she said to the goat, and it just bleated in response.

She huffed, blowing a lock of hair out of her face. It was then that she noticed just how close to the wall she was. She could just make out the West door up ahead. She looked around anxiously.

 _I should go back,_ she thought to herself.

Then, she undermined her own good idea.

"It couldn't hurt to just look at it," she said aloud to no one in particular.

So with the baby goat still in her arms, she walked in the direction of the door. She was very excited, and her footsteps kept getting faster, anxious to just have one look into the Maze. However, when she got close enough, she stopped.

The entrance was huge. Looking into it, she felt very uneasy. It was kind of ominous with its towering stone walls and ivy and passageways leading left and right and straight ahead to who knows what. It was enough to deter her from actually going in.

In the distance, she thought she saw something move. Instinctively, she took a step forward, squinting to try and get a better look.

"Not another step, Greenie."

She spun around so fast, she felt a little dizzy. There, she looked into the faces of Alby and a stony-faced Nick. The goat in her arms bleated again.

"Th-this isn't what it looks like," she said, scrambling for the right words to explain. "I was just– I was looking for—"

"Save it," Nick said, and she almost flinched from the calm anger in his voice.

Alby walked towards her, grabbing her by the scruff of her neck and pushing her back towards the Glade. She had a feeling that she knew where she was going, and she was not ready to go back just yet.

She dropped the goat and it scampered off towards the Glade. She tried to push Alby off of her, but he only grabbed her arms.

"Wait. Wait, Nick! I swear, I wasn't doing anything! This is just a big misunderstanding."

Nick's cold stare did not falter as she pleaded with him.

"I wasn't trying to leave. Please, you gotta believe me," she said.

Not one single speck of emotion touched Nick's face as she searched it with her eyes. He only shook his head.

"I don't."


	8. Grievances and Grievers

_**Previously:**_

 _"_ _Wait. Wait, Nick! I swear, I wasn't doing anything! This is just a big misunderstanding."_

 _Nick's cold stare did not falter as she pleaded with him._

 _"I wasn't trying to leave. Please, you gotta believe me," she said._

 _Not one single speck of emotion touched Nick's face as she searched it with her eyes. He only shook his head._

 _"I don't."_

* * *

She protested and struggled the entire way out of the Deadheads. It wasn't fair. She was being punished for something that she hadn't even done. Gladers everywhere were staring at her as Nick and Alby basically dragged her to the Slammer. Gally was the first one to run up to them.

"What's going on?"

The girl nearly let out a small laugh of relief.

"You!" she exclaimed. "Tell them! Tell them that I was only looking for that stupid goat; I wasn't trying to escape!"

Gally gave her a semi-confused look.

"Guys, I don't know what this is about, but she _was_ looking for a goat; I told her to—"

"Yeah, we know," Alby said. "Saw it in her hands as she was walking towards the West door."

"It wasn't like that!" she defended. " _You_ believe me, don't you?"

This time Gally shot her a look that she couldn't read very well. However, something told her that he wasn't about to help her out of anything.

"Get back to work, Gally," Nick ordered, and the girl gave Gally a pleading look before he turned and walked away.

Nick and Alby continued to drag her towards the Slammer. She struggled even harder.

"Look, guys, I know I've done some stupid shit since I've gotten here—"

"That's an understatement," Alby interrupted.

"—but I _swear_ that I wasn't trying to get out! I just wanted to look! There's no rule against looking, is there?"

"Right, and that's why you were walking towards it instead of 'just looking.'"

"My god, Alby! I thought I saw something! Is that a crime? Is curiosity a crime now? Is everything just a _crime_ here?"

"It is when it can get you killed," Nick spat out in a harsh voice.

She was quiet for a minute before thinking up something else to say.

"But don't you have like a judgement system? You can't just automatically assumed I'm guilty; it's not fair!" she protested.

"I _am_ the judgement system," Nick told her.

"Well, that seems a bit one-sided if I do say so myself."

Nick yanked her left arm so hard that he pulled her right arm free from Alby's grasp. She was now facing Nick, who still looked furious.

"Alright, you want a jury? I'll give you a jury," he said. "Alby? Guilty or not?"

"Guilty," Alby said without the thought of hesitation in his answer; the girl narrowed her eyes at him.

Nick then proceeded to drag her towards the gardens where they found Zart.

"Zart, come here real quick," Nick said, still holding tight to the girl's left arm; she was sure it was going to bruise.

Zart walked up to them; confusion evident on his face. Nick pointed to the girl.

"Guilty or innocent?"

"What?" Zart asked.

"Just answer the question," Nick said.

Zart shrugged.

"I don't know? Guilty?"

The girl gaped at him.

"But that's not fair! He doesn't even know what happened!"

Nick wasn't listening to her. He pulled her to a couple more Keepers who were more than happy to deal out judgement of her without actually knowing the story. Guilty both times.

When it came to Gally, she almost thought he was going to say she was innocent, but she was wrong.

"What happened to having 'proof?'" she had yelled back to him as Nick dragged her away.

In the end, the only Keeper that she really had a chance with was Frypan.

"Look man, I don't know," he had said. "I can't just say guilty or innocent without knowing what she did."

"Well, you know what? It doesn't matter," Nick had said. "Because the majority says she's guilty. So she will be going to the Slammer. And later, we will have yet _another_ meeting about what to do with her."

He tugged on her arm with almost every syllable. And then, he pointed to her, his face very close to hers.

"And you better hope, that everybody is in a better mood than I am because I am _so_ close to just throwing you into the Maze before the doors close and letting the Grievers have you."

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she tried not to be scared, but that did not sound at all good.

"What's a Griever?"

Nick gave her a bitter smile.

"Oh, you don't even wanna know."

Without another word, he pulled her to the Slammer and literally shoved her into the pit, slamming the door behind her. She landed in the dirt with a thud, scraping up her palms on ground as she tried to catch herself. She shot straight up to her feet and rattled the door that Nick had already locked.

She looked at his retreating figure before letting out a frustrated scream and sinking to the ground. Angry tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at the ground. This wasn't fair. It wasn't fair one bit.

* * *

When lunchtime came, no one brought the girl food or water. Nick was still angry, and whether or not he should have done that, he didn't care. He had just sat with the other Keepers, who had finally asked for the whole story, though none of them changed their verdict upon hearing it. In their minds, she had been guilty from the day she had gotten to the Glade. She was reckless and seemed a bit snobby; she wouldn't even tell them her name. Her scaling the wall had been the last straw for most of them.

"I like the idea of leaving her in the Maze," said one of the Keepers. "Least she'd be out of our hair."

"She'd also be _dead,_ " Frypan reminded them. "She may be a little...intense, but that's no reason to send her to her death."

"Fry's right," Clint said. "I mean, she's a pain in the ass, but she doesn't deserve to die."

"Yet," Winston muttered.

"I mean, we all know why she's doing it," Frypan said. "She's scared. In case you shanks have forgotten, it was terrifying waking up in here, not remembering anything. People just got different ways of coping."

"Well, her way of 'coping' is major pain," Alby said.

"Not to mention, counterproductive."

"What do you think, Gally?"

Gally shrugged. He had said nothing on the subject so far, which was odd because Gally _always_ had something to say. He was secretly thinking that some of this was his fault. He should have just told her to fix the fence and asked James to go find the goat. This whole thing could have been avoided if he had just done that.

"She's a girl," he finally said. "Maybe they're all that crazy."

It was something he could get away with saying because none of them could really remember ever meeting a girl before she had popped up in the Glade. Sure, they remembered what girls were, knew how to distinguish them from boys, but none of them could remember talking to one or having one around.

"Well, if they're all like her, I hope she's the last one we're getting," someone piped in.

"I still think we're being a little hard on her. I mean, she's new, she's scared, she just got out of the _Blood House_ of all places–no offense, Winston. Her being in the Slammer for the rest of the day without food or water seems kinda, I don't know, barbaric," Frypan said.

"It is kinda hot outside," Clint added. "I think we should at least give her some water."

"I'll determine what she can have," Nick bit out. "You think I care if she's hungry or thirsty right now?"

"No offense, man, but you do realize that you're punishing her for something that she didn't do, right? You put her in the Slammer because she may or may not have been _thinking_ of going into the Maze," Frypan said.

Nick narrowed his eyes at Frypan.

"Oh, well, since you obviously know what's best, what do _you_ think we should do with her?"

Frypan held up his hands.

"Look, man, I'm not trying to say I should be in charge or anything. I'm just saying, it might not hurt to give her the benefit of the doubt just this once."

"You know what I think?" Clint said. "I think once we show her what's out there, she won't go within fifty feet of those doors, not willingly at least."

"Either that or she'll just freak out even more," Winston muttered.

"You know what I think's an even trade off?" said Henry, the Keeper of the Sloppers. "I say we keep her in there until she tells us what her name is. I don't like the idea of her walking around thinking she's too good to even tell us what her name is."

"I like Clint _and_ Henry's ideas," said Zart, and there was a murmur of agreement around the table as they ate.

Gally looked over his shoulder towards the Slammer, feeling almost sorry for the girl. After all, Frypan had been right; they were punishing her for something she hadn't really done yet. But at the same time, the chances that she would have done it, based on her past actions, were pretty high. So he shrugged it off. After all, why should he really care?

Hours passed by as the girl sat there, leaned against the back of the cell, her face turned upwards. No one brought her food or water for lunch, but in all truth, her anger had evaporated her hunger for the time being, so it didn't really make a difference to her one way or the other. She was still fuming about being thrown into the Slammer without having done anything wrong.

She hated them, _all_ of them, especially Alby. He had been quick to point his finger, to assume she was guilty. But really, it was Nick who was in charge, Nick who let this happen. She almost wished she _had_ run into the Maze.

By dinner time, the girl was trying to sleep to stave off the hunger pains that were now hitting her hard. But it's hard trying to fall asleep on an empty stomach, so she only lay there on her side with her eyes closed, her arms wrapped around her stomach.

By now, the doors of the Maze were closed, and her left ear was still ringing from their loud booms and grinding noises. No one bothered with coming to talk to her; hell, no one bothered _thinking_ about her. No one, that was, save for Frankie.

With the sun going down and everyone having their allotted downtime, Frankie was able to walk over to the Slammer unnoticed.

"Hey, Greenie, wake up."

"I'm already awake," she replied dully, not opening her eyes, recognizing Frankie's voice.

Frankie sat down in front of the Slammer door.

"What happened today? I thought you said you weren't gonna try escaping no more."

At this, she shot upright and came close to the door. Wrapping her fingers around the bars, she whispered harshly through clenched teeth:

"I didn't do anything. Whatever you heard is a lie, and no one fucking believes me."

Frankie leaned slightly away from the door because the look in her eyes was murderous. But after a few seconds of watching her seethe, he relaxed.

" _I_ might," he said, "if you just tell me what happened."

The girl's white-knuckled grip on the bars relaxed, and her eyes softened at Frankie's statement. This was the first time anyone had offered to even listen to her side of the story, and the thoughtfulness almost shocked her. And for some strange reason, it filled her with such emotion that her eyes started to sting with the threat of tears.

She held them back as she continued to look at him, a vaguely confused expression on her face. And when she was sure that he wasn't joking, she told him everything that had happened, starting with the whole fence fiasco.

Frankie listened thoughtfully, not once interrupting her. And she made a mental note to be much nicer to Frankie from there on out. After she finished, Frankie nodded and looked at her.

After a moment of silence, he finally said:

"I believe you."

"You–you do?" the girl asked.

"Yeah."

A smile formed on her lips, and she wasn't sure why she did this, but she reached through the bars of the door and grabbed one of Frankie's hands, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you," she said in the most sincere voice she could ever remember using.

Frankie looked down at her hand and hesitated before squeezing back before she retracted her hand.

"Don't mention it," he said, his ears turning as red as his hair, but she didn't notice. "Of course, guess it doesn't matter much what I think, only what Nick and the Keepers think."

The girl sighed and leaned against the door a bit.

"What is it with them anyway?" she asked. "Who put _them_ in charge of anything? And why are they so ornery?"

"You've gotta cut 'em some slack, Greenie," Frankie said. "They've been through a lot."

"Yeah, well, so have you, and you're as nice as can be," she pointed out.

"Yeah, 'cause I still remember what it's like."

"What what's like?"

"Being the new kid," Frankie answered. "See Nick and the Keepers, they're all a part of the original Gladers, the first to be sent up. I think they said it was something like thirty of them. Them and most of the other Gladers have been here for over half a year, can you imagine that?

"Not to mention, they had to figure everything out on their own. There wasn't anybody here to tell 'em the rules or how to do stuff. They just did it. I heard the first Greenie that came up after that first month ran straight into the Maze, and no one saw him until a week later when one of the Runners finally found his body.

"And believe it or not, I had it hard when I got up here too. It's just something you gotta go through, I guess, until the next Greenie comes up," Frankie told her.

"Why?" she demanded, and he shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess they got up here and we're so busy with finding a way out and making their rules that they forgot what it was like to wake up in that lift all alone in the dark. They all became good friends with each other, and they forgot that when you come up here for the first time, you're all alone. They pick on the new kids because they can't remember what it was like to be on the other side of it all."

The girl listened in silence, not knowing what to say. Frankie ran a hand through his hair.

"Guess that's why I like talking to you so much and why I believe you. Because I remember what it's like to not have anybody listen to you. To have 'em bark orders and rules at you with no real explanations."

"Frankie!"

Frankie and the girl jumped at the sudden shout. They looked to see Alby in the doorway of the Homestead.

"You better get away from the Slammer before you join her in there!"

Frankie gave her a fleeting apologetic glance before scrambling to his feet and walking away. Alby walked over to the Slammer, and the girl glared at him.

"You're an asshole," she mumbled.

Alby pretended to not hear the remark, and he dropped a water bottle and stale bread in front of the Slammer door. The girl stared at it before glaring back up at him.

"Luckily for you, Nick's being kind enough to let you have dinner. If it was up to most of us, you'd starve for the night," Alby said.

She narrowed her eyes.

"Oh, is he now? Well, you know what you can tell Nick to do with his _'kindness?'_ " she said, reaching through the bars and picking up the bread and water. "Shove it up his ass because I didn't do anything!"

She proceed to throw the bread and water as far away from the Slammer as she possibly could. She wasn't about to eat their "prison food" when it was being presented to her as some sort of gift that she should be grateful for. She hadn't done anything to deserve being in the Slammer anyway. Personally, she would rather starve than let them believe they were doing her some great favor.

Alby glared at the bread and water that now resided at least seven or eight feet away from the Slammer.

"Guess you won't be eating then," he sneered before walking away.

She made a face at his retreating back, hating how important he thought he was. She stared at the bread and water, and her stomach involuntarily growled. She turned away from the door. She may have been being stubborn, but she could deal with the hunger; she _couldn't_ deal with being treated like this.

* * *

The next morning, she wasn't awakened by the doors opening; she was woken up much earlier by someone shaking her awake.

"Rise and shine, Greenie," came Alby's voice.

She scrambled away from him.

"Get off me!" she said, still sore about everything that had happened the previous day.

Alby rolled his eyes.

"Oh, get up," he said, grabbing her under one of her arms and yanking her into an upright position.

He pulled her out of the Slammer and pushed her forward. She stumbled into a boy. She knew his name was Minho; he had talked to her once when she first arrived, after he and Newt had wrestled her to the ground, of course.

She didn't know much about the kid except that he was the Keeper of the Runners, and his stoic expression didn't let her in on what he was thinking of her. He only grabbed her arm wordlessly, making sure she didn't try to run for it or something.

"What do you think you're doing, Alby?" she asked, disdain in her voice. "What? Is Nick finally executing me? Didn't have the balls to do it himself, huh? Had to send his stupid henchmen to do it?"

"Quit being so dramatic, Greenie. Believe it or not, it gets kind of old after a while. Besides, if we were gonna kill you, we'd just put you in the Maze," Alby said.

"And try being a little bloody quieter; people are still trying to sleep."

Newt appeared out of the darkness, and for some reason, she felt calmer. She wasn't sure why, after all, she had only really talked to the boy once, but he had a way of putting her at ease. He just seemed a bit more fair in his judgement of her. But Frankie was still her favorite.

"First day out of the Slammer and you had to go and ruin it, didn't you, Greenbean?" Newt half-teased.

"I didn't do anything," she repeated like a mantra.

"Of course not," he said, and she wasn't entirely sure that he was being sarcastic.

"Enough chitchat, let's go," Alby said, leading the way in the direction of the West wall toward the side not covered by the Deadheads.

"Where're we going?" she asked.

"It was Clint's idea," Minho said, startling her a bit. "We've only had to do this with one other Greenie. Everybody else just kinda followed the rules."

"'Cept that first shank," Newt said, and she knew he was talking about that one Greenie Frankie had told her about.

"Just shut up, and you'll find out soon enough," Alby said as they walked.

"You know, you're really easy to hate," she spat at him.

"I guess that's something we have in common then, shank," he retorted.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Finally, they came to a stop right in front of the wall that loomed over them like a dark, ivy-covered tower. She waited in silence, vaguely interested and still very angry.

Alby stepped forward, pulling the ivy away from the wall to reveal a small, square window. It was pitch black on the other side, and she waited for someone to say something, but no one bothered explaining.

"What am I suppose—"

 _"Shh!"_ said all three boys, and she rolled her eyes but said nothing else.

They all stood in silence for what felt like forever. It was unnatural how calm and still they all were. She started to bounce a little with impatience, but Minho's grip tightened on her arm to still her.

She sighed. She opened her mouth to complain, but immediately shut it when she saw a faint glimmer in the darkness.

She stepped closer curiously, Minho letting go of her arm as she did so. She squinted, wondering what it was. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see something making its way closer to the window. It was coming very, very fast, and before she knew it, the thing had rammed straight into the window, which thankfully did not break.

She fell backwards at the sight of it. A big creature, bigger than her, was on the other side of the glass. It was bulbous with no real defining shape. It writhed and slinked along the ground. It had limbs protruding at odd angles from its glistening body. They were made of metal and tipped with the stuff of nightmares.

She scrambled away from the window, trembling with horror at the sight of the wicked, mangled creature. But Alby grabbed her by an arm, pulling her back towards the window and keeping her there.

"No, we're gonna make sure you get a nice long look at this so you can understand something," he said as she struggled to stay away from the window and the horrible creature. "Because Nick wants you to know what you're up against if you break one more rule. He wants you to know what your options are. Either fall in line or become Griever food. Your choice."

Alby's grip loosened on her arm, and she pulled free. She was panicked, sucking in huge gulps of air, wanting to get as far away as possible from that–that _thing._ And without a second thought, she turned and sprinted away in the direction of the Homestead.

Minho and Newt made to follow her, but Alby stopped them.

"Let her go. She's got a lot to take in."


	9. The Blame Game and No Name

**_Previously:_**

 _She scrambled away from the window, trembling with horror at the sight of the wicked, mangled creature. But Alby grabbed her by an arm, pulling her back towards the window and keeping her there._

 _"No, we're gonna make sure you get a nice long look at this so you can understand something," he said as she struggled to stay away from the window and the horrible creature. "Because Nick wants you to know what you're up against if you break one more rule. He wants you to know what your options are. Either fall in line, or become Griever food. Your choice."_

 _Alby's grip loosened on her arm, and she pulled free. She was panicked, sucking in huge gulps of air, wanting to get as far away as possible from that–that_ thing. _And without a second thought, she turned and sprinted away in the direction of the Homestead._

 _Minho and Newt made to follow her, but Alby stopped them._

 _"Let her go. She's got a lot to take in."_

* * *

Frankie, who was a very light sleeper, usually awoke the same time the Runners did. There was something about people moving about while he tried to sleep that always seemed to pull him out of his dreams, unlike some of the Gladers, who he was sure could sleep through an earthquake. However, this morning was different. He hadn't been able to sleep very well that night anyway (he had been wondering what was going to happen to his greenie friend because the Keepers never did tell them what they were planning to do with her), and now, he had been woken up extra early by Alby and Minho and Newt talking in hushed whispers and maneuvering through the sleeping Gladers.

Frankie didn't know what time it was exactly, but he knew that it was far too early for the Runners to be up. He watched the three head in the direction of the Slammer, and he got worried. Being relatively new to the Glade, Frankie had never seen a Banishing (in fact, he wasn't entirely sure that they had ever banished anyone before), therefore he had no idea how that kind of thing would play out. Would it be done publicly or discretely? Would they wait until right before the doors closed? Or would they take the banished person into the Maze and tie them up somewhere like a nice little present for the Grievers?

Frankie worried for the girl for a minute or two before deciding that if they _were_ going to banish her, Nick would more than likely be present. Frankie watched the whole thing unfold from the safety and comfort of his makeshift sleeping bag. He wasn't exactly sure what they had done to her, but she seemed pretty freaked out. Frankie leapt to his feet when she ran past him.

"Greenie? What happened?"

She didn't answer. She ran as fast as her legs would take her, hopping over and sidestepping the sleeping Gladers, Frankie was certain that she stepped on at least two; she tripped over a third. She ran straight into the Homestead, the door slamming shut behind her.

He glanced back at the three boys, who were walking back to the Homestead at a much slower pace, before he decided to follow her. He opened the door of the Homestead and was received with groans and grunts of frustration from the few Keepers that slept there. Someone was sitting up by one of the windows, looking out into the still sleeping Glade with a placid expression, not seeming to be fazed by the girl's reaction to whatever just happened.

"She went upstairs," said Nick, barely looking at Frankie.

Frankie glanced towards the stairs before looking back at Nick and frowning.

"What'd you do to her?"

"Nothing," Nick said. "She's finished with her punishment; today, she'll start her work with the Builders."

"She's supposed to go to the Track-hoes after the Blood House," Frankie protested.

"Yeah, well, Builders work closer together. It'll be easier for Gally to keep an eye on her than Zart."

" _I_ can keep an eye on her," Frankie defended, thinking that a whole day with Gally was the last thing their Greenie needed.

Nick narrowed his eyes slightly but didn't take his gaze off the window.

"You're not a Keeper; in fact, you're not in charge of anything that goes on around here. You're still one of the new kids, and therefore, your opinion in this matter is irrelevant. We already decided her punishment and how she'll spend her day today."

Frankie made his way to the staircase, and when he reached the bottom step, he looked back at Nick.

"She shouldn't have been punished in the first place," he mumbled just loud enough for Nick to hear before walking up the stairs.

Frankie really believed what he had said because he really believed that she had told him the truth about what had happened. Even if he hadn't believed her, he probably would have pretended to anyway because he just _wanted_ to believe her. He wanted her to know that there was at least one person on her side even if everybody else wasn't. He figured kindness was a much better method than punishment when it came to trying to get people to comply and do what they were told.

Frankie walked into one of the bedrooms that the Med-jacks usually took the sick or injured. Hidden away in one of the corners of the room was the girl, who seemed to be trying to make herself disappear into the wall behind her. Since she couldn't actually do that, it seemed she had settled for hugging her knees to her chest as tight as she could.

She looked frightened, almost on the level of terrified Frankie had seen on her face when she first came out of the Box. However, that air of sarcasm and anger and all around arrogance that usually surrounded her had been wiped away completely, and all that remained was a very scared teenage girl whose hazel eyes were wide and filled with tears.

Frankie sat down in front of her, and though her eyes were open, he wasn't completely sure she was seeing him.

"Hey, Greenie, what happened?"

Her irises flicked up towards his face, and her bottom lip trembled as she tried to speak.

"They're gonna kill me," she said in a panicked voice, and Frankie furrowed his brow.

"Is that what they told you?" he asked. "Nick said your punishment was over; you're working in the Glade today. They aren't killing you."

She shook her head as though he wasn't understanding her.

"They're gonna put me in the Maze with those things, and they're gonna kill me."

Frankie was even more confused, and the girl suddenly grabbed his arm as a thought struck her. She was shaking all over, and Frankie, who was quite frightened for her sanity, waited for her to talk again.

"I don't wanna die here, Frankie," she said. "Not here. Not like that."

"Look, Greenie, whatever they told you, they probably only said it to scare you. I just talked to Nick, and they aren't killing you—"

She groaned and shook her head as though he were misunderstanding her, when in reality, she was just so scared that she was having a hard time articulating what she really wanted to say.

"No, not today," she said in a constricted voice. "They said–they said if I mess up again, they'd give me to the Grievers."

At this, she started crying again, and Frankie understood why. It seemed simple enough, just don't break any more rules, be a good little Glader, do your job and nothing else. But she wasn't scared of messing up again. She was scared that they would do again what they had already done: falsely accuse her of breaking the rules.

"You should have seen it," she continued. "It was terrible."

"What was?" Frankie asked.

"The Griever!" she said as though he should have already known what she was talking about.

"You saw a Griever?" Frankie asked, his interest peaking, but it suddenly dropped again when he remembered that she was still scared and probably wouldn't be up for answering his questions of "What did it look like?" and "How big was it?"

So Frankie settled for sitting there quietly as she cried. When she finally stopped, they both just sat there, not talking and barely moving. At one point, she started humming, and Frankie listened to the soft tune, not interrupting her. However, the humming came to an abrupt stop, and when Frankie looked at her, the expression on her face was that of confused frustration, as though she were trying to remember something important but just couldn't. It wasn't until the sky outside the window became a dull gray, signaling the oncoming day, that she said something.

"What if something happens, like I mess up or they think I did? Are they really just going to throw me into the Maze?" she asked quietly.

"That's not gonna happen," Frankie tried to assure her.

It was a terrible promise to make because he had no way of actually keeping it. He could only hope that nothing like that would happen. If it did, there was nothing he could really do. It was like Nick had said, his opinion didn't matter.

"Just say that it did," she said. "What are the chances that I'd survive out there?"

Frankie didn't say anything. He had heard that no one survived a night in the Maze; if they didn't come back before the doors closed, they didn't come back at all. The girl looked at him and took his silence as the answer she knew it was.

"That's what I thought," she said, sighing a bit and resting her chin on her knees.

The loud boom that signaled the opening of the Maze doors echoed through the Glade. The Homestead muffled the sound of it, and the girl's left ear hardly hurt at all. It was getting better, but it would occasionally still ring at loud noises and sometimes just ring for no reason.

When she heard the doors opening, she didn't want to leave the Homestead. Frankie stood and tried to get her to do the same, but that terrified feeling took hold of her once again, and she shuffled back into the corner of the room, shaking again. And once more, Frankie tried to calm her.

She refused to move from her spot on the floor. How could they expect her to go out into the open Glade when just and hour or two before, they had shown her what lurked behind its walls? And now that the Maze was open, what was to stop one of those horrid creatures from finding its way inside? How could they all just go about their jobs? Especially the Runners. When she had first heard of them, she envied their privilege to explore the Maze, but now, she had no intention of ever going near those doors. She would have rather been locked away in the Slammer again.

It wasn't long before the rest of the Gladers were awake, and a certain Keeper made his way into the room.

"Alright, Greenbean, come on. You're with me today," Gally said as he burst into the room. "Beat it, shank," he added to Frankie, who was still trying to convince her to get up.

Frankie narrowed his eyes. Standing up straight, he turned to Gally.

"She's scared," he told him with an undertone in his voice that was telling Gally to back off. "I'm just trying to calm her down."

"Yeah, well, you have a job to do, and it isn't _that,_ so beat it," Gally said again.

Frankie looked back down at the girl, who was staring at him with those terrified eyes. He looked back to Gally.

"No," he said, feeling a lot braver than he knew he actually was.

Gally was getting irritated with Frankie, as he usually did with anybody that didn't do what he told them to. Gally looked at the girl, who was cowering on the floor, and he shook his head.

"This is ridiculous," he said.

He pushed Frankie out of the way and pulled the girl up by her arm and pulled her along. The closer they got to the door of the room, the harder she struggled. About a foot from the doorway, the girl screamed something incoherent at him, and Gally let her go because he realized then that she was genuinely freaking out. He stared at her with a mild look of concern.

"What's her problem?" Gally asked Frankie, who returned to her side.

"I already told you; she's scared," he said irritably.

"Yeah, I got that. Of _what_ though? She's not even going back to the Slammer. She's a free little Greenbean, so long as she does what she's told."

Frankie frowned at Gally, but turned his attention back to the girl when she mumbled something that Gally couldn't hear.

"No, it's alright," Frankie was saying to her. "Grievers don't come into the Glade."

This didn't comfort her at all because she had personally seen a Griever try to break into the Glade from the window in the wall.

" _That's_ what this is about?" Gally said, growing more and more impatient with the girl.

"Well, what did you expect?" Frankie asked. "It's what you wanted, right? You and the other Keepers and Nick. You only showed her the Grievers to scare her. Well, there, she's scared, you happy?"

"We were just trying to keep her out of the Maze," Gally said.

"You're such a hypocrite," Frankie blurted out. "I heard about you when I first got here. They said you were one of the first to be stung, all because you went into the Maze when you weren't supposed to."

"Yeah, and it was the worst pain of my life," Gally said. "Excuse me for trying to prevent it happening to someone else."

"What the hell's going on up here?" came Nick's voice from the door.

Gally just motioned to the girl sitting on the floor as though saying: "Here. _You_ handle this."

Nick glanced at her and then to Frankie.

"Frankie, go," he said to him.

"But—"

"Go!" Nick demanded.

Frankie looked from the girl to the two boys in the room.

"Fine. Fix your own mess. This is all on you," Frankie said.

Nick grabbed the sleeve of Frankie's shirt as he walked past him.

"Slim yourself and lose the attitude, Frankie."

Frankie mumbled something and pulled free from Nick before leaving the room.

"I think she's a bad influence on him," Gally said, looking at the doorway where Frankie had disappeared.

"No one answered my question," Nick said. "What's going on?"

"Showing her the Grievers has worked so well that she refuses to leave this room," Gally informed him.

"Get a grip, Greenie. The Grievers don't come out in the middle of the day, not usually at least. And they've never come into the Glade," Nick said.

The girl looked up at him, but she didn't move from her spot. Nick rolled his eyes.

"Alright, let's try something different," he said, resting on his haunches in front of the girl. "Either you can get up and work like everyone else, or you can take that trip to the Maze we promised you, and you'll _really_ have something to be scared of then because you _will_ die."

Gally scowled faintly at how the girl's eyes widened at Nick's words, thinking that maybe this wasn't helping very much.

"Get up now, Greenie," Nick said.

It took her a while, but finally, with shaking legs, she rose to her feet. Nick and Gally both felt kind of sorry for the girl as she looked at them with her scared expression, though neither of them let it show. It was now her fourth day here without a shower, and it showed. Her hair was matted and dirty, and her clothes and fingernails were caked with dirt, and the tops of her shoes were stained with blood from the Blood House floor.

It was at that moment Nick remembered that she couldn't have been older than fourteen. Nick felt a bit more sorry for her than Gally in this aspect because Nick was the oldest person in the Glade, or so he and everyone else had guessed. Nick watched as Gally led her out of the room, and he felt a little guilty about threatening the girl when she was already scared. But he had other things to do than worry about how one Glader felt at the moment.

Gally led the girl downstairs, and she was painfully aware that she was still shaking. At this point, half of her was trying to regain her composure, but the other half was still very crippled by fear as a new phobia of these creatures was trickling into her mind. She stopped just short of the door of the Homestead, and she mentally kicked herself for it.

Gally noticed her sudden stop, and though she had stopped shaking, her eyes still gave away how frightened she was. And Gally was sorely reminded that all of this could have been avoided if only he hadn't sent her after that stupid goat. He frowned as he remembered this realization and clapped a hand on her shoulder. She jumped a bit.

"Don't worry, Greenie. Nick's making me watch you today, and that means, apart from keeping you out of trouble, I also have to make sure nothing bad happens to you."

She gave him a look. His words didn't exactly comfort her since he, she felt, was one of the reasons she had been falsely accused in the first place. She looked out of the open door and towards the place where everyone was eating their breakfast. She inhaled deeply through her nose and stepped over the threshold of the Homestead.

She walked quietly towards the line of Gladers forming in front of the kitchens. And while she disliked Gally and partially blamed him for the grievances placed on her, she walked very close to him because it sort of made her feel safe, though logically she wasn't sure what Gally would be able to do against something like a Griever.

When they joined the line of Gladers, Frankie willingly gave up his own spot a few people ahead of them to go stand beside her. Gally gave him an agitated look but said nothing.

"You okay?" he asked.

She looked up at him and nodded slightly.

"Yeah," she said quietly, sort of wrapping her arms around herself.

Then, Frankie tentatively put an arm around her shoulders because she still looked kind of frightened. She was grateful for this, and she relaxed a lot more. She felt even safer with Frankie around, not because he seemed stronger (because he didn't), but because he seemed to be the only person in this place that genuinely believed her and therefore seemed to be on her side. He seemed to be the only one that would actually worry over her if something bad were to happen.

Most importantly, she liked Frankie a lot more because he didn't really blame her for her actions, and he definitely did not blame her for what had recently happened. He, like her, blamed Nick and the Keepers that had unduly wronged her. Though, this went both ways because Nick and most of the Keepers seemed to blame her alone for everything that had happened, and this attitude trickled into the minds of most of the Gladers who already thought she was a spoiled brat. Of course, some Gladers blamed the leadership, thinking that if she had had a harsh enough punishment the first time, none of this would have happened. Then, there was Gally who blame himself somewhat, but mostly her.

Set aside from the people who were blaming someone or another, there was Frypan, Minho, and the other Runners in general. Frypan was just a good-natured kid. He didn't blame anyone for what happened. She was scared and she was acting out. It would wear off in a few days. Minho and the other Runners spent most of their time in the Maze and really couldn't be bothered one way or the other about what this one girl was or was not doing in the Glade. The whole affair was completely irrelevant to them because their minds were better used on maps and trying to find a way out of the Maze.

"Tried to tell Nick that you should be in the gardens today," Frankie told her. "He wouldn't listen."

"When _do_ I get to be in the gardens?" she asked, thinking that work might be better if she had Frankie to talk to the whole time.

"You'll go to the gardens when Nick tells you to," Gally said, injecting himself into their conversation. "You're going to be with the Builders today."

"But what if I already know that I want to be a Track-hoe?" she asked.

"Tough," Gally said. "You go through all the jobs just like everyone else. And then, we Keepers get together and decide where you'd be best placed."

"So I don't get a say at all?" she asked.

"No," Gally said.

"Well, why—"

"It's just the rules!" Gally said, already irritated, yet again, with the girl.

Both Frankie and the girl narrowed their eyes at Gally, but the line moved forward, and Gally didn't see.

When they finally got their food, Gally went to sit with the rest of the Builders. Frankie and the girl ate separately, away from the rest of the Gladers, though Gally kept an eye on them from where he ate.

As she chewed up her bacon, the girl looked around at the Gladers. She received dirty looks from some of them, and whereas she would normally have sneered back, she only looked down at her plate instead.

"Everybody here hates me," she said, and part of her seemed to know that they had a reason to, but she wouldn't let herself admit that.

Frankie looked at her and shook his head.

"Ah, that's not true. It's only, what? Your fourth day here? And you've spent most of your time away from the general public," Frankie said. "You just gotta mingle. I'm sure you'll make lots of friends today."

"Yeah, like I made _lots of friends_ at the Blood House?" she said.

Frankie waved his hand dismissively.

"That was a fluke. You just gotta try to last past lunchtime today. Someone's gotta warm up to you," he said.

"Yeah, or they could just keep hating me," she said.

Frankie looked around at the other Gladers and frowned.

"On second thought, just keep to yourself today. And when you get to the gardens, I'll try and convince Zart that that's where you belong."

The girl actually let out a small laugh, and Frankie smiled.

"Thanks, Frankie."

Suddenly, Frankie remembered something that had been bothering him for some time now.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?"

The girl looked up at him and nodded curiously.

"How come you won't tell anybody your name?" Frankie asked. "You've been here for four days, and you're just so content with people calling you 'Greenie' or 'her.' Why?"

The girl frowned and looked back down at her food, having very suddenly lost her appetite. Part of her wanted to tell him the truth, that she still didn't remember her name. But part of her didn't want to let him know. There's something sort shameful about not knowing who you are. However, upon looking back up into Frankie's friendly face, she resolved to tell him.

"Because I–I can't remember it," she said quietly. "I can't remember my name."


	10. Up on the Barn

_**Previously:**_

 _Suddenly, Frankie remembered something that had been bothering him for some time now._

 _"Hey, can I ask you a question?"_

 _The girl looked up at him and nodded curiously._

 _"How come you won't tell anybody your name?" Frankie asked. "You've been here for four days, and you're just so content with people calling you 'Greenie' or 'her.' Why?"_

 _The girl frowned and looked back down at her food, having very suddenly lost her appetite. Part of her wanted to tell him the truth, that she still didn't remember her name. But part of her didn't want to let him know. There's something sort shameful about not knowing who you are. However, upon looking back up into Frankie's friendly face, she resolved to tell him._

 _"Because I–I can't remember it," she said quietly. "I can't remember my name."_

* * *

Frankie gave the girl a confused look before staring back down at his food.

"So you really don't remember _anything,_ " he said. "Guess the Creators really left you with nothing, huh?"

"Yeah," she muttered before biting into some toast.

They were quiet for a few seconds before she spoke again.

"Except, well, there's this one thing," she said. "It's not really a memory or anything, but sometimes I'll catch myself humming some sort of tune. But I can only do it when I'm not really paying attention. Whenever I catch myself doing it, I can't remember it anymore."

"You were humming earlier," Frankie remembered aloud. "Back in the Homestead, you were humming, and then, you just stopped."

"Yeah, I know," she said. "Don't suppose you remember any of it?"

Frankie thought back to the tune she had been humming. He couldn't really remember most of it, but he thought he remembered one part of it.

"There was this one part that sort of went like this," Frankie said before quietly humming the part he remembered.

She listened carefully, and there was something very familiar about the tune, but it didn't help her remember anything important, like the rest of the tune for example. She hummed it back to him at least five times before finally giving up on trying to remember the rest.

"Well, at least I can remember that part of it now," she said. "Lot of good it does me though. Still can't remember anything else."

"Hey, maybe it's a clue," Frankie said, suddenly thinking of the Maze.

"A what?"

"Well, what if the Creators did it on purpose? What if you're supposed to remember that tune for some reason? Maybe it can help us get out of here."

She gave him a look that portrayed just how ridiculous she thought that idea was.

"What? I'm supposed to hum a tune and some door magically opens?" she said sarcastically.

Frankie sort of laughed at the idea.

"Yeah, I guess when you put it that way, it sounds pretty stupid," he said.

"Yeah, besides, I'm more interested in why I can't remember my name, but everybody else remembers theirs. What's that all about?" she asked.

Frankie shrugged.

"Maybe it was an accident," he said. "Maybe you hit your head in the Box or something."

"What? Gave myself amnesia after they had already _purposefully_ given me amnesia?"

"Hey, I'm just spitballin' ideas here."

She sighed.

"Maybe it _was_ an accident. Either that or they just really hated me on a very special level," she said. "Guess they'll have to get in line," she added, looking around at the other Gladers.

"Do you think they'll send up another girl next month?" she asked, changing the subject completely.

Frankie shrugged again.

"Maybe. I don't know. Suppose we could ask for another one. Doubt they'll really care what we ask for though."

"What do you mean, 'ask for another one?'" she asked.

"Well, every week, they send supplies up in the Box. A few times we've asked for certain things, sent the Box back down with a list. Sometimes they give us things, sometimes they don't," Frankie explained. "Of course, I doubt it'll work at all if we start asking for certain Greenies because we really don't know how they're even picked to be sent up here."

She looked around the Glade, at all the boys eating and talking. She kind of hoped that the next Glader to be sent up was another girl. She didn't like being the only one there; she almost felt discriminated against.

After finishing her food, she settled for trying to remember the rest of that tune again. Of course, this just resulted in her humming the part Frankie had remembered over and over again. She had kind of hoped that if she hummed part of it, the rest would just come to her, but that wasn't how it happened. Frankie sat in silence as she hummed the same thing over and over again. Surprisingly, it didn't annoy him too much; he was just as anxious for her to remember the rest of it as she was. Maybe then, she'd remember something else, like her name.

She was still humming when Gally walked up to them to retrieve her. He listened for a second as she hummed and hummed the same clipped tune before finally drawing attention to himself.

"Alright, let's get to work, hummingbird," he said in a mocking tone.

The girl stopped humming, and she and Frankie looked up at him with identical frowns on their faces. Gally rolled his eyes.

"Whatever you say, eyebrows," she replied, earning a snort of laughter from Frankie and a shake of the head from Gally; everyone was agreed that Gally's eyebrows were his most defining feature, right up there with his attitude.

"Shank," he mumbled.

"Blockhead," she retorted as she stood and waved goodbye to Frankie.

"Good luck," Frankie said to her.

She smiled, and she turned back to say something to him, but Gally frowned and pushed her forward to make sure she kept walking. She scowled.

"You know, you don't have to be such a jerk all the time," she said.

"Yeah, well, you don't have to get on my nerves all the time, but you still do," Gally said, walking past her.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. The girl sort of anxiously looked around at the open Maze doors, and she instinctively followed a bit closer behind Gally. They were headed for the barn that was beside the Blood House. She groaned internally, not wanting to go near that place again.

"We've been adding onto the back of the barn for a few days now," Gally told her.

He went into an explanation of why they had been adding to the barn, but the girl couldn't be bothered to listen to him. She was worried about the open doors of the Maze. She was worried about running into that jerk that work around the Blood House and at the barn. And most importantly, she was still trying to remember the rest of her mystery tune.

Gally looked over his shoulder at her to see that she was glancing at the open Maze doors a bit nervously. He frowned at her.

"Are you even listening, Greenie?"

"Huh? Yeah," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "Adding onto the barn, right?"

He gave her an irritated look before shaking his head and leading her the rest of way. When the other Builders saw the girl was accompanying Gally, there was a collective groan from most of them. She scowled at them in response, thinking that she didn't want to be there any more than they wanted her there.

"Man, ain't she supposed to be in the gardens today?" complained one of the Builders.

"Yeah, I thought she was supposed to be Zart's problem for now," said another.

"Hey, this wasn't my idea; it was Nick's," Gally defended, which made the girl scoff.

Others began to protest her being there, and one kid stepped forward.

"She tripped over me this morning! Running around the Glade like a maniac while everyone was trying to sleep. Ran right over me and didn't even care," he said, giving her a harsh look.

"Sorry," she mumbled, but no one heard her; they were all too busy going on about why they didn't want her there.

Apart from being angry at them for not wanting her there, she kind of agreed with them. She didn't want her there either. She wanted to be in the gardens with Frankie. She looked in the direction of the gardens, but the broadside of the barn was obstructing her view. She sighed.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Gally finally shouted over the angry Builders. "She's with us today! Get over it, and get to work!"

For the most part, the girl stayed pretty close to Gally the entire time. She tried helping some of the other Builders, but the other Builders, still sore about the fact that she was there, didn't seem to want her help. They'd always tell her to go work on some other part, that they had it under control.

So she helped Gally with the side of the attachment that he was working on. She did what he told her to do, and she was surprised to find herself liking the actual building aspect of the job. Like fixing the fence the day before, helping build the attachment was a cathartic way to release a lot of pent up anger and frustration without getting in trouble for it. The work also provided a distraction from what, she now knew, lurked in the Maze. Aside from all that, she mostly liked it because she was actually _good_ at it. It didn't require a lot of thinking, just a lot of doing. She wasn't sure what she had been doing with her life before the Glade, but she wouldn't have been too surprised if she had built or fixed things up back then as well.

"You're uncharacteristically quiet," Gally told her after a few hours, having taken her for someone who would complain about work more so than actually working; he had at least expected her to make her snide remarks every now and then.

"I'm working," she said, driving a nail into a plank of wood to hold it in place. "Besides, you aren't my prime choice of a person to have an actual conversation with."

"Oh, and Frankie is?"

The girl wiped some sweat off of her face with the back of her hand.

"He's a right side better than you are," she told Gally bitingly, picking up another nail and holding it in place against the wood.

Gally nodded.

"You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

"You, Nick, Alby," the girl said. "The list goes on."

"Yeah, well, get over it, girly. No one here cares about your petty grievances," Gally told her.

"Frankie does," she pointed out, and Gally made a disparaging noise.

"Frankie's soft in the head," he said. "By the way, great job at manipulating him into feeling sorry for you."

She frowned.

"I didn't manipulate anybody," she defended. "He's just the only decent one in this place."

"Why? Because he takes your side?"

 _Yes,_ she thought bitterly.

"No, he's just nice," she told Gally, striking the nail with the hammer in her other hand.

That was the end of their conversation, and they both continued to work silently together. When lunchtime finally rolled around, the girl was the first to leave her work, but Gally made her walk with him to the kitchens so as to "keep an eye on her," he had said.

Nevertheless, she made it to where Frankie stood in the line of Gladers.

"Hey, you managed to make it to lunch today," Frankie said in a teasing voice that she had to smile at.

"Yeah, but I still don't think anyone's too fond of me," she said before shrugging. "All the same, that's fine with me. I only really need to make a good impression on the Track-hoes, right?"

"Not even all of them, just Zart," Frankie said.

"It is kind of fun though," she said, moving forward with the line, "building things, that is. And nothing bad's happened yet."

Frankie smiled and shook his head.

"Who'd a thought you'd like being a Builder?" he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

"I'd still rather be in the gardens. Actual company while I worked would be much appreciated. You know, company that didn't hate my guts."

"Any luck remembering the rest of that tune?" Frankie asked.

The girl shook her head.

"No, I'm beginning to think it's a lost cause," she admitted.

Frankie shrugged.

"Guess I'll just have to be around whenever you start humming again," he said.

"Another good reason for me to be in the gardens with you."

They ate their lunch the way they had eaten their breakfast: together and away from the other Gladers. However, their topic was now moved to the work the girl had done with the Builders. In all truth, Frankie found the girl quite interesting, not only because she was the only girl so far, but because she had only been in the Glade for four days, and she had managed to shake everything up. While it irritated most of the other Gladers, Frankie (quite like Newt) found it more entertaining than aggravating because it was the only thing in quite some time that had broken their boring routines of eat, work, and sleep. She took his mind off the thought that they might never get out of the Glade, and he was grateful for that.

After they were finished with their lunch, they again went their separate ways. As soon as Frankie had walked off in the direction of the gardens, Gally appeared by the girl's side, and she groaned.

"You know, you can leave me alone for more than two seconds. I'm not going anywhere," she said as they started walking back in the direction of the barn.

"Oh, I know," Gally said, remembering how scared she had been that morning; even now, she still occasionally glanced at the Maze doors as though expecting a Griever to burst into the Glade. "I just came to tell you that you'll be working with Stan. Winston says there's a hole up on the roof of the barn that needs fixing, and while repairing things is usually the Bricknicks' job, they've all got their hands full right now, so you and Stan will be taking care of it instead."

The girl looked at the barn that had to be at least two and a half, maybe three, stories tall at it's highest point. She looked at Gally.

"What if I have a fear of heights?" she asked.

Gally clapped a hand on her back.

"Well, see, I watched you scale up a wall and hang there for over twelve hours," he reminded her, "so I know that you _don't_ have a fear of heights. Which is _why_ you will be working with Stan."

She rolled her eyes, but Gally didn't see.

"And which one is Stan?" she asked, looking around at the other Builders as they too made their way back to the barn.

Gally pointed him out.

"I believe he's the one you ran over this morning," he said, not trying at all to hide how amusing he found her discomfort.

"Great," she said in a faux excited tone. "I can already tell that we're gonna be the best of friends, and that he definitely _won't_ push me off the top of the barn."

"That's the spirit, Greenie," Gally said. "Now, run along."

She grumbled something as he jogged away from her, and she headed in the same direction as the Builder, Stan. She followed him into the barn and watched as he began to climb up the ship ladders that led up to the barn's hayloft. He had a very impressive tool belt buckled around him and a bag of supplies slung over his shoulder. She figured he was probably more than capable of fixing the hole himself, but Gally was an asshole, as was usual, so she began to climb the first ship ladder after him.

Stan looked down at her from the ladder he was on. He frowned.

"What are you doing, shank?"

"My job," she said. "I'm coming to help you fix the roof."

"No thanks," Stan said, continuing his climb. "I can fix it myself; go find someone else to bother."

She rolled her eyes and continued her climb as well.

"Believe me, I'd love to, but Gally said I had to do this," she said. "So unless you wanna take this up with Gally, you're stuck with me until the roof is fixed."

She climbed onto the hayloft after him and stood up, brushing her palms together. Stan gave her an irritated look.

"Fine, just don't say anything to me. In fact, don't do anything; I'll fix it," Stan said.

"Well, I have to tell Gally that I did something," she said.

"Here," Stan said, dropping the bag he was carrying, "you can carry the supplies."

She rolled her eyes, reaching down to pick up the bag as Stan opened the skylight in the hayloft's vaulted ceiling. He stood on top of an old crate and climbed out of the skylight onto the roof. The girl slung the bag's strap over her shoulder and tried to follow suit, but she was shorter than Stan, and she had a harder time trying to pull herself up through the skylight.

"Come on, slinthead. Quit klunking around."

"Some help would be appreciated," she said in a strained voice as she tried to pull herself up again.

"Yeah, well, not being tripped over would've been appreciated too, but– you know."

She sighed.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"Yeah, I don't care," Stan said, but he finally reached down and pulled her up onto the roof anyway.

She murmured out a thanks as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

"Okay, so the hole's over there, next to the steeple," Stan said. "All you gotta do is hand me what I ask for. Think you can manage that?"

"I think so," she said in a caustic voice.

"Good. Follow me, and try not to fall."

The girl inched along the roof, careful not to slip or drop anything out of the bag. Stan, who was already bending over the hole in the roof, looked back at her and shook his head.

"Shank, stand up and walk. It's a lot quicker."

"Yeah, and a sure-fire way to fall," she said, noticing how angled the roof was.

"Just get over here," he said in an annoyed voice.

The girl slowly lifted her hands off the roof and stood, with surprisingly steady legs, on the shingles which provided a nice grip under her shoes. She walked over to the barn's steeple and held onto its old and rotting windowsill.

The hole was bigger than she or Stan had expected, and it left the girl wondering how the hole had gotten there in the first place. Stan immediately set to work, barking orders at the girl and making disparaging noises whenever he thought she took too long.

The girl had sat down and halfway wrapped her arm around the small steeple's side as she watched Stan nailing a makeshift shingle into place. She looked around at all the Gladers working on the ground, and Stan was annoyed to find that this was why she had not seen his outstretched hand.

"Shuck-face, another nail please!"

She sighed, holding out the small box of nails in her right hand. Stan reached to pick one out, and his hammer, which he had put down in front of his knee, somehow slipped away from him and slid down the side of the roof. The edge of the roofing stopped the hammer from falling off and to the ground below, but retrieving it from the ground would have been easier than getting it back from the side of the roof which was almost too steep to walk on.

Stan cursed under his breath and tossed the nail back into the box. He carefully climbed down to where the hammer was and grabbed it.

"Be careful," the girl said, feeling as though this was something she was supposed to say at a time like this.

"Shut up, princess," Stan said, seeming to know that there was no real thought behind her statement.

 _I can't win with these people,_ she thought as she watched Stan clamber back up to her and the hole.

Stan stood and admired the work he had already done on the hole. There was one small spot that still needed patching up, and they would be done. And most importantly, he would be rid of her.

"Almost finished," Stan said, more for the sake of talking rather than actually informing her of anything because she could obviously already see that they were almost done. "Just got to—"

As Stan had started to bend down over the hole, one of the shingles under his right boot gave way, and he lost his footing, falling and sliding down the side of the roof.

The girl surprised herself with her own fast reaction to this situation. She immediately let go of the steeple and slid down the roof, scraping up the whole side of her left leg on the shingles as she did so. She grabbed Stan's outstretched arm with her right hand, and she grabbed onto the small hole in the roof with her left hand (accidentally ripping up some of the work Stan had done, but it held nonetheless). She felt her right shoulder pop painfully, and she was surprised that she didn't let go of Stan when this happened.

This had all happened so fast that for a second, Stan wasn't sure why he hadn't hit the ground below and broken his neck or something. He looked up to the girl, who seemed to be struggling very hard to stay on the roof herself.

"Fingers slipping!" she managed to tell him when she saw him just looking up at her with his shocked expression, her left fingers barely holding onto the hole in the roof.

Stan regained his footing and climbed back up towards her. They both panted, their hearts pounding as they sat at either side of the steeple. The girl held her right arm gingerly as Stan inspected the nasty scraps he had on his knees and shins. He looked down at the ground, where some of the Gladers had stopped their work to look up at what was happening on the roof, and he looked back to the girl, who leaned her head against the steeple with closed eyes.

"Thanks, Greenie," he breathed out.

A small hint of a smile appeared on the girl's face, but she didn't move or open her eyes.

"Hey, you called me 'Greenie,'" she noted aloud, remembering how up until just now he had been calling her anything but Greenie.

"Yeah, well, you might have just saved my life," Stan said. "You earned it."

She did smile at this, opening her eyes and turning her head to look at the boy.

"Don't flatter yourself," she teased. "Knowing them, if you had fallen off the roof, they would've said that I pushed you. And I'm not dying because you don't know how to walk on a roof."

He let out a small laugh.

"Oh, shut up," he said.

He noticed that she was still cradling her right arm.

"Go on and find a Med-jack," Stan said. "I've got this."

"You sure?" she asked in a joking voice. "If I leave, who's gonna save your ass the next time?"

"Oh, just go, shuck-face," he said, still smiling a bit.

And with that, she carefully made her way back to the open skylight and dropped down onto the hayloft.


	11. The Carvings on the Wall

_**Previously:**_

 _"Don't flatter yourself," she teased. "Knowing them, if you had fallen off the roof, they would've said that I pushed you. And I'm not dying because you don't know how to walk on a roof."_

 _He let out a small laugh._

 _"Oh, shut up," he said._

 _He noticed that she was still cradling her right arm._

 _"Go on and find a Med-jack," Stan said. "I've got this."_

 _"You sure?" she asked in a joking voice. "If I leave, who's gonna save your ass the next time?"_

 _"Oh, just go, shuck-face," he said, still smiling a bit._

 _And with that, she carefully made her way back to the open skylight and dropped down onto the hayloft._

* * *

The girl climbed down from the hayloft, trying to hold her right arm perfectly still so that the shooting pain didn't come back. Right now, it had settled for a dull throb deep within her shoulder. She was still, admittedly, quite impressed with herself, and she was smiling when she got to the ground.

Gally had already made his way into the barn, along with Winston, who was looking at her suspiciously. They were joined shortly by Nick, and upon seeing him, the girl rolled her eyes.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Stan slipped. I caught him. My shoulder popped. I'm going to see Clint about it," she rattled off in a monotone. "Any of that against your rules?" she added sarcastically.

Nick scowled at her remark and looked at her shoulder. She had tied the long sleeves of the blue shirt she normally wore around her waist, and the dirt stained tank-top she had on allowed Nick to see that her right shoulder was already showing signs of swelling compared to her left one.

"Well, alright, go on," Nick muttered to her.

"Gee, thanks for the permission, Boss," she said, walking past him and the two Keepers.

Gally had climbed up to the hayloft to go check on Stan, and Winston had went back to work, leaving Nick alone. He walked out of the barn and watched the girl make her way towards the Homestead.

Here he was, _yet again,_ changing his ever scrutinizing opinion about her. First, she was impulsive and arrogant. Then, she was bratty, and then, she was kind of okay to talk to. Then, she was back to impulsive again. Then, she was a scared little girl that he felt sorry for. Now, she had went and saved a kid from breaking his neck, and she was back to being a sarcastic asshole again. He hated her; he kind of liked her; he was _completely_ annoyed by her. She was giving him whiplash. He shook his head and walked to the gardens.

"What happened to her?"

Nick rolled his eyes as he walked past Frankie.

"She's _fine,_ Frankie. Get back to work."

Frankie frowned at Nick before watching his friend make her way into the Homestead.

The girl let the door of the Homestead close behind her. It was quiet and seemingly empty. She walked up the stairs, cradling her arm.

"Clint?" she called. "Anybody? Need a Med-jack, please."

No one answered her, but she heard someone cursing as she reached the second floor.

"Well, if you'd just hold still!"

"Man, I wish we had an actual doctor."

The girl pushed open the door of the room that the voices were coming from. She saw one of the Cooks, and Clint seemed to be tending to his hand.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

Whether the kid was in too much pain to remember that no one liked the Greenie or he just didn't have an opinion of her yet was unclear.

"Cut my hand open when I was chopping up some vegetables, and this kid thinks he's a doctor. I'd have better luck with a sewing machine," the kid told her.

The girl was now close enough to see that Clint was trying to stitch the kid's hand up. It looked pretty painful, and she was glad that she didn't have any cuts deep enough to constitute stitching.

"Come on," Clint said. "I haven't had a lot of practice, big shucking deal. I think I'm doing a pretty okay job."

"What happened to you?" the injured kid inquired before cursing again as Clint put another stitch in his hand.

The girl grimaced as she looked at the cut on the boy's hand once more before walking to the other side of the small room and sitting down in a rickety chair.

"Think I popped my shoulder out of its socket," she said, looking at some of the medical supplies on a table near her.

Clint finished with the boy and looked over at the girl.

"Well, a dislocated shoulder? That's easy," he said, washing his hands off in a basin of water.

He walked over to her and felt her shoulder gingerly. She winced a little. And suddenly, without any warning, he popped her shoulder back into place. The girl let out a yelp of pain.

"Dammit!" she said, rubbing her shoulder as the pain slowly subsided.

Clint looked at her leg which she had been purposefully avoiding because every time she looked at it, it seemed to make it hurt worse. It was scraped up all the way from the side of her calf up to her thigh. It was bleeding, and it stung very badly, and she was sure that there was already dirt in the wounds.

"Guess I'll go ahead and bandage that up while you're here. Doesn't look like you'll need any stitches," Clint said.

"Consider yourself lucky," the boy with the stitched up hand muttered; Clint only smiled.

"It's a shame," he sad. "I was getting good at it."

The injured boy rolled his eyes and finally left, going back to the kitchens. Clint left the room as well with the basin he had been washing up in. He came back later with some clean rags and fresh water in the basin, which he sat on the ground next to the chair she was in.

Clint began to clean her leg off, and she winced a little every now and then because it made it sting even worse. Of course, the worst part was when he poured the isopropyl alcohol down the side of her leg.

She cursed under her breath as her leg twitched because of the pain.

"Man, where'd you even _get_ rubbing alcohol?" she asked through clenched teeth as he splash more of it on her wound.

"Came up with the supplies," he said. "The Creators always keep us well stocked on first aid supplies. They even give us syringes filled with this medicine; we call it Grief Serum. Didn't take us long to figure out what it was for."

"What's it for?" she asked.

"It's for the Gladers who get stung by the Grievers."

The girl shuddered at the mention of the creatures and stopped asking questions. She settled for looking around the room as Clint bandaged up her leg. They were shortly joined by Stan, sporting his own scraped up legs.

"Hey, Clint. Gally's making me get bandaged up," Stan said.

"Join the club," the girl said as Clint finally finished up with her.

"Good thing too," Clint said. "You don't want it to get infected."

The girl hopped up from her chair and was about to leave the room.

"Hang on, Greenie," Clint said, standing up from his spot on the ground. "I gotta sling I want you to wear for now."

"Ah, come on, my arm's fine," she said. "It's very sore, but it's fine."

Clint picked up an obviously handmade leather contraption and frowned at her. He held it out to her.

"Just wear the shucking sling, slinthead. It's only for the rest of the day," he said, and she reluctantly took it and put it on before leaving the Homestead.

"A sling? Really, Greenie?" said one of the Builders when she got back to the barn. "Can't handle a little dislocated shoulder?"

She frowned. This is exactly why she hadn't wanted to wear the sling in the first place. She started to take the infernal thing off as she muttered,

"Clint made me. I don't even really need it."

"Put it back on, shank," Gally said, obviously disapproving of her undermining Clint's opinion.

"But—"

"Now."

She grumbled something as she put the sling back on.

The rest of the workday, she was reduced to holding and handing the Builders different tools rather than actually working. The only good thing that seemed to come from this whole ordeal, other than Stan not having a broken neck, was that the Builders seemed to hate her a little less; in fact, she believed they might have been warming up to her. Gally noticed this too and was very pleased that nobody was complaining about her anymore.

However, at one point, she had started humming again (unbeknownst to her), and after a while, it got on a few Builders' nerves.

"God, could whoever is humming, please shut up?" said one kid, but she hadn't heard him because she was zoned out at the moment.

Tyler, a kid who was working near her, flicked her on her sore shoulder to get her attention.

"Hey, hummer, be quiet," he said before resuming his work.

The girl rubbed her shoulder where Tyler had flicked it, and tried to remember what she had been humming, but the tune still eluded her. She desperately wished Frankie had been there to listen to it. But for the remaining time until they all went off to have dinner, she grudgingly stayed quiet as Tyler had told her to.

At dinner time, the girl ate with Frankie again. She regaled him with all the fascinating details of how she had heroically saved Stan's life (obviously embellishing here and there to make it sound more impressive than it actually was). She also told Frankie how she thought saving Stan was one of her better moves because now the other Builders seemed to tolerate her better than they originally had.

"So you only caught him for your own personal gain?" Frankie half-teased, shaking his head and thinking that he wouldn't actually put that past her.

"I caught him because he was falling," the girl said truthfully. "I'm just not complaining about the outcome is all."

When they were finished eating, and her ear had stopped ringing from the Maze doors closing, Frankie stood up and stretched.

"Well, Greenie, I'm going to take a nice long shower," he said.

Then, he looked down at her and scrunched up his face in mock-disgust.

"Maybe you should take one some time today too," he told her. "No offense, but you look like klunk."

The girl looked down at her dirty, sweat-stained clothes and laughed a bit.

"Yeah, I do," she agreed.

She watched as Frankie walked off towards a building that some other Gladers were heading to. She had asked Frankie about the showers, and like when she had seen the running toilet in the Homestead for the first time, she was surprised to learn that they had _real_ showers. Frankie told her that like most of the other buildings, the Shower House had just always been in the Glade.

Frankie had told her that she would have to wait for the Shower House to clear out though, because the shower heads were lined up on one of the walls, and there were no curtains or stalls or anything that constituted actual privacy. Seeing as how all the Gladers were boys until she came along, it hadn't really been a problem until now.

Apparently, the Creators had given them a little more privacy with the toilets which also resided in the Shower House. They at least had stalls separating them; however, there were no doors on the stalls. The girl just settled for using the toilet in the Homestead. She had asked Frankie about the shower in the Homestead bathroom, but he told her that that shower had been broken since before he got to the Glade, so using it was out of the question.

She sighed as Frankie left and just sat there, gazing up at the sky. A few minutes later, a group of Gladers walked past her, and she recognized most of them to be Builders. She saw Stan, with his bandages legs, and he looked at her. Then, he said something to one of the Gladers that sounded something like:

"Let's see if the Greenie wants to come."

She stood up at hearing this, and Stan walked over to her. A few of the Gladers in the group muttered a few words, but no one really protested.

"We're gonna go let off some steam over at the Ring. You want in?" Stan asked.

She let out a laugh.

"You guys didn't let off enough steam from working all day?" she asked, causing Stan to roll his eyes.

"Do you want in or not, shuck-face?"

"Kinda got a sling on my arm, in case you haven't noticed," she said, motioning to the leather sling that was holding her right arm.

"You said yourself that you didn't really need it," said one of the Builders in the group who remembered her words from earlier. "You're only wearing it 'cause Gally told you to put it back on."

"Yeah, come on, Greenbean, don't be a shank," Stan said. "What Gally and Clint don't know won't hurt them."

Though the girl knew that Stan was probably only inviting her because of what happened on the barn (had it not been for that, he still would have hated her), she felt somewhat flattered by the invitation. So she nodded her head.

"Yeah, alright," she said, taking the sling off her arm and hoping that Gally and Clint didn't see her.

She walked with the group of Gladers to the Ring, and she watched as, two at a time, they tried to push and fight each other out of it. Stan was really good at this game, and she vaguely wondered how he would fair against Gally.

Someone suddenly came up beside her and clapped her on the back. She jumped a bit in surprise, causing Newt to grin at her.

"You know, I halfway expected you to be in the Slammer again when I got back," he said. "Glad to see you aren't."

She let out a disparaging noise, remembering that he had been involved with that morning's happenings, though she still couldn't bring herself to be angry at the boy, who she figured had just been following his orders.

"After the threat I got today, I've been keen to stay out of trouble," she said, turning her attention back to the Ring, where Stan had Tyler's arms pinned behind his back.

"Well, that's good to hear because you should know that it wasn't a threat; it was a promise," he said seriously; he had said it in a way that sounded like he was just informing her rather than trying to scare her. "Nick and Alby–especially Alby–they were pretty set on you knowing that. You've really gotten on their nerves more than any other bloody Greenie I've ever seen. And that includes the first Greenie that got himself killed."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she mumbled like a child being scolded by their parent. "But a little warning would've been nice. You could've told me that you guys were planning on showing me that– thing."

"That _thing_ is called a Griever," Newt said. "And what difference would it have made? Warning or no warning, you still would've been scared. You'd be bloody mad not to have been scared. Besides, it's not my job to tell you things; that's Nick and Alby's job. I was really only there for moral support."

"For who? Me or the Griever?" she teased.

"Definitely the Griever," he said, and she laughed.

Stan threw Tyler out of the Ring and looked up at the girl who still had a grin on her face.

"Come on, Greenie," Stan said. "What d'ya say? You and me."

"I don't know," she said. "I'm not any good at this."

"Oh, I'll go easy on ya. Give you the beginner's course," Stan teased.

"Go on, Greenie," Newt said. "Show 'em what you're made of."

 _I'm afraid I'm not really_ _made of much,_ she thought to herself, but she stepped into the Ring nonetheless.

The girl and Stan circled each other a couple of times before Stan finally made his move. He bent low and charged at her, wrapping his arms around her torso, and for a moment, the girl thought that he was just going to pick her up and literally throw her like a rag-doll out of the Ring (because he easily could have). But he didn't do that; instead, he only pushed her back to the edge of the Ring. She tried to push back, but it was no use, and she was standing on the grass before she could blink her eyes.

"More like a string-bean than a greenbean, isn't she, boys?" Stan taunted in what she assumed was a goodhearted way. "Alright, Greenie, let's try again."

She frowned a bit as she thought about it. Stan noticed her frown, and he smiled even bigger.

"Come on, Greenie. You were just warming up. I'll even let you make the first move this time," he said.

A few of the Gladers around the Ring, including Newt, sort of cheered her on. She sighed as she stepped into the Ring once more.

"Come on, princess, give me your best shot," Stan taunted as they circled each other.

"Don't call me that," she said before charging at him, trying to imitate the move he had used on her.

Stan firmly planted his feet in the ground and easily flipped her. She landed on her back in the sand with a muffled thud. Stan stood over her, grinning.

"I'll make you a deal, _princess,_ " he teased. "If you can beat me just once, I'll call you whatever you want me to."

He offered her his hand. Her shoulder was kind of hurting, and she was feeling a tad humiliated, but she wasn't done yet. She grabbed Stan's hand, and he pulled her to her feet.

Three rounds later, she still hadn't managed to budge Stan. He had her pinned to the ground when Gally walked up, her discarded sling in his hands.

"Greenie! I thought I told you to keep this on," he said, and Stan scrambled away from the girl.

She stood up and brushed herself off as Gally frowned at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, taking the sling from him and putting it back on.

Some of the Gladers around the Ring groaned. They had been having fun watching the new kid get the crap beat out of her. Newt's brow shot upwards.

"A sling, Greenie?" he said to her.

"Yeah, to match my lovely leg bandages," she said sarcastically.

Newt chuckled.

"By the way, how _did_ you manage to get those injuries?" he asked. "Thought you told me that you stayed out of trouble today."

"I did!" she defended. "In fact, I made a complete turn around; I got injured doing the _right_ thing."

She told him all about what had happened on the barn, and he just shook his head and laughed at her.

"I'm surprised your tiny little arm didn't snap off completely," Newt said.

"Ha ha, very funny," she said.

"Greenie," Gally said, still standing there.

"What? I put it back on!" she said.

Gally rolled his eyes.

"Just follow me, would ya?"

The girl looked at Newt, who just shrugged. They both followed Gally. He was taking them to the East wall to a spot where Nick and Alby were standing. A grin spread across Newt's face when he realized what this was about. However, the girl was less enthused.

"Oh, god, what are you showing me now?"

Neither Gally or Newt answered her, and she let out an exasperated sigh as she walked. As they got closer, she could see that Nick was holding a knife in his hand, and she frowned until she stared at the wall behind him. It had at least thirty something names carved into it. A few had been marked through.

"What's this about?" she asked, automatically spotting Frankie's name on the wall.

"This is about you officially becoming part of the Glade," Nick said, "just like everyone else."

He held out the knife for her to take. She understood what they wanted of her, and she couldn't do it. She looked at the knife but didn't take it.

"Arm's in a sling," she said. "And I'm right-handed."

"Your arm seemed okay when you were in the Ring," Gally said. "You telling me you can fight, but you can't carve your name on a wall?"

"Take the damn knife, Greenie," Nick said.

The girl looked around at them with an unreadable expression on her face. Should she tell them? They were going to find out sooner or later.

"Greenie?" came Newt's voice. "You still with us?"

At his question, she hesitantly took the knife from Nick and walked up to the wall. She fiddled with the knife as she looked at all the names that seemed to be taunting her.

She took her arm out of the sling and squeezed the knife's handle tightly. She thought about just making up a name. It had been four days now, and she still couldn't remember her name, and the chances that she ever would were slim. Plus, the Gladers were going to have to call her something eventually, right? They couldn't call her Greenie forever. Why not just pick a name and stick with it?

However, as she touched the tip of the knife to a bare spot on the wall, she couldn't bring herself to carve anything there. It didn't feel right.

"Well?" Gally said after a few drawn out moments.

The girl lowered her hand from the wall and let the knife fall to the ground. Shaking her head and stepping back, she finally said,

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"Can't or won't?" Newt asked curiously.

The girl turned to look at them. Her eyes were stinging, but she really didn't want to cry. So she just sniffled a bit and blinked furiously until the feeling went away.

"I _can't_ put my name up there," she informed them. "I don't have one."

They just looked at her, dumbfounded.

"What do you mean you 'don't have one?'" Alby asked. "Everyone's got a name."

"I don't _remember_ it, okay? Happy now?" she said, anger seizing her since she refused to let sadness take its rightful place.

She stormed off, pushing roughly past Newt and Gally as though they should have known not to bring her there. She put her arm back in its stupid sling and walked off towards the Homestead.


	12. The Shower House

**_Previously:_**

 _The girl lowered her hand from the wall and let the knife fall to the ground. Shaking her head and stepping back, she finally said,_

 _"I can't. I'm sorry."_

 _"Can't or won't?" Newt asked curiously._

 _The girl turned to look at them. Her eyes were stinging, but she really didn't want to cry. So she just sniffled a bit and blinked furiously until the feeling went away._

 _"I_ can't _put my name up there," she informed them. "I don't have one."_

 _They just looked at her, dumbfounded._

 _"What do you mean you 'don't have one?'" Alby asked. "Everyone's got a name."_

 _"I don't_ remember _it, okay? Happy now?" she said, anger seizing her since she refused to let sadness take its rightful place._

 _She stormed off, pushing roughly past Newt and Gally as though they should have known not to bring her there. She put her arm back in its stupid sling and walked off towards the Homestead._

* * *

The girl climbed the stairs to the Homestead and walked inside, slamming the door and earning a few sideways glances from a few Gladers who were hanging out there. She walked towards the back of the old house to avoid their stares. She ended up hiding away in an old storage room that was filled with extra supplies and clothes that had been sent up in the Box.

She sighed and leaned against a shelf, absentmindedly running her fingers over a folded, brown shirt. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the shelf's wooden frame. Words couldn't describe how unfair this all was and how embarrassed she felt. Why did they want her to carve her name up there anyway? Nick and Alby didn't even _like_ her, and most of the Gladers still felt the same. Why would they want to officially make her part of anything?

She really hadn't wanted to tell them that she couldn't remember her name. Hell, she almost hadn't told _Frankie_ the truth when he had asked. Now, four more people knew, and who knew how many people would know by tomorrow because she didn't really trust any of them to keep their mouth shut like Frankie had.

Shame and emptiness had found its way into her psyche and wouldn't go away. And it made her sad for the obvious reasons, but also angry. Angry because everyone else got to have an identity. Angry because the only thing that she had left of herself was a tune that she couldn't even remember. She was angry at herself for not being able to remember (because she figured some of it _had_ to be her own fault), and she was angry at the others because they were either going to feel sorry for her or use it against her somehow, and she didn't want either of those things.

It was hard for her to accept that this was her reality. Four days in, and it still all felt like a weird dream to her. And it brought her to the question of why anybody would want to do something like this to her, or to any of them really. Who _were_ the Creators and what did they want? Was this whole thing entertainment for them? Was it an experiment? Were she and the other Gladers just lab rats? The girl wanted answers, but the likelihood of getting them was almost nonexistent while they were stuck there.

She opened her eyes back up and her vision was blurred with tears. She didn't bother wiping them away until someone knocked on the side of the doorframe.

"You alright, Greenie?"

She turned towards the shelf and pretended to be preoccupied with the clothes on it.

"Yeah," she said, "I'm just looking for some new clothes."

She picked up a shirt, and upon unfolding it, she realized it was too big for her. She folded it back up and put it back on the shelf.

"Some that fit," she added.

"The smaller clothes are on that shelf," Newt said, pointing to the bottom shelf.

He grabbed a pair of cargo shorts and held them up.

"Bet these'll fit," he said, tossing them to her.

"Thanks," she mumbled, catching them and picking up a green shirt.

"Have a couple of belts in that box down there," Newt said. "And socks are—"

"Thanks and all, but I can manage," she bit out more harshly than she had meant to.

"Hey, don't catch a bloody attitude with me," Newt said, leaning against a wall. "I'm only trying to help."

The girl frowned as she found a brown tank top. She kind of wanted to be alone right then, but she just sighed and mumbled out an apology. After all, what had Newt done to her?

"So did you like being with the Builders today?" he asked suddenly.

She just shrugged her left shoulder as she grabbed a clean pair of socks. She frowned as she realized what she was missing.

"It was alright," she said, pulling out different boxes.

"Can't believe that you, of all people, actually survived a day with Gally," Newt said in an amused voice. "I thought for sure that one of you would kill the other."

"To be honest, we didn't really talk," she said, walking to another shelf.

"Well, maybe next– what _are_ you looking for, Greenie?" Newt asked, watching in amusement as she flitted around the room, looking in different boxes and moving things around on shelves.

"I can't find the underwear," she said.

Newt smirked and kicked a box that was next to him.

"Boxers or briefs, Greenie?" he asked with a toothy grin.

She frowned, thinking that he found too much enjoyment in her predicament. She grabbed some underwear out of the box and left the room without another word.

Newt rolled his eyes and followed after her.

"Ah, come on, Greenbean, lighten up. They aren't so bad; they're pretty comfortable."

"That's not what this is about, and you know it," she said, walking out of the back door of the Homestead.

"So you can't remember your name, big deal," Newt said.

"Not for you maybe. Oh wait, you _have_ a name," she said as though accusing him of some wrongdoing.

"Look, I'm not pretending to know how you feel; I'm just saying that it isn't the _worst_ thing that could possibly happen."

"Yeah, well, it feels pretty damn terrible," she muttered, walking towards the Shower House, which Frankie was emerging from with fresh clothes and damp hair.

"Try being in the bloody Maze all the time," Newt said.

"Yeah, that must be terrible. Thanks for turning my misery into a competition," she replied.

Newt reached out and grabbed her shoulder before she could get Frankie's attention. She turned to Newt.

"I wasn't trying to do that, okay? I was just trying to lighten the mood a bit. But regardless, and I don't mean to be insensitive or anything, you've got to let stuff like that go," he said in a very blunt way.

She gaped at him wordlessly.

"All of us have had our memories taken, alright? You have it a little bit worse, so what?" he said. "You think you'd feel any better if you had your name and nothing else? You wouldn't. You'd still have all these questions, and you still wouldn't really know who you were. You'd still feel all that emptiness on the inside.

"And I can tell you from personal experience, it still feels bloody terrible, but what you can't do is throw yourself a pity party. It doesn't do anyone any good; it just brings everyone else around you down. You just got to get over it, and learn to be okay with it," he said.

She thought about his words for a moment before replying,

"And what if I can't? What if I _can't_ be okay with it?"

There was a pause for a second.

"Then, you fake it," Newt told her in a serious voice. "You fake it, so it's not a burden to anybody else."

The girl's brow furrowed, thinking that that would be a terrible way to go about life.

"Is that what you do?" she asked quietly.

Newt didn't say anything, but she thought he answered her well enough with the look he gave her. And for the first time since being in the Glade, the girl stopped feeling sorry for herself just long enough to feel sorry for every other Glader there. She realized that while she had been complaining and hating her own predicament, she had forgotten that these boys didn't exactly have the ideal life they wanted either.

They were all trapped there, just like her. And they were all trying to cope with the loss of their memories, just like she was. And they were all sad and angry and scared, just like she was. And while they all remembered their names, they still didn't really know who they were, just like she didn't know who she was.

And what Newt had just told her (or rather what he hadn't) made her feel especially sorry for him. Pretending to be okay–to be happy–for the sake of others around you had to take its toll on a person. And before she could stop herself, she found herself asking,

"Are you okay?"

Newt's expression immediately changed at her question, and he regained his air of witty sarcasm as he laughed the question off. The smile didn't reach his eyes, but the girl didn't notice.

"Me? I'm fine. It's _you_ I'm bloody worried about."

She wanted to say something else, but Newt had already walked away, and Frankie had taken his place. Frankie informed her that there were still two guys using the showers, and even then, Gladers were still walking in to start their own shower or use the toilet. So the friends sat on the grass in front of the Shower House as the girl resolved to wait until it cleared out completely.

"I see you've made a new friend," Frankie said, still rubbing his red hair with a towel.

"Who? Newt?" the girl asked. "Eh, I don't know. One moment he's nice; the next, he's telling me how stuck up or petty I am."

"Yeah, well, that's Newt for ya. Unapologetically blunt about everything."

She looked at Frankie.

"Do _you_ think I'm petty?"

"I think you have every right to feel how you feel," Frankie said. "And that you shouldn't let anybody tell you how they think you should feel."

"They took me to the East wall today," she told him. "Wanted me to carve my name. I think Newt thinks I overreacted because, I mean, it's not like anybody else here has it that much better than me."

"So what?" Frankie said. "Our pain doesn't erase your pain or make it unimportant. And everybody's got different ways of coping. No offense to Newt, but not everyone can be cool and collected like he is all the time. Especially not the greenies."

"What were you like when you first got here?" she asked curiously.

"Nothing like you," he said, seeming to laugh at the memory in his head. "I cried for at least an hour once it all finally sank in."

"I think I got most of my crying out in the Box," the girl said, and Frankie put on a face of mock-surprise.

"You can cry?" he asked with a smirk, causing the girl to smile and shove his arm playfully.

"Oh, shut up," she said. "You saw me cry this morning, or did you forget?"

"Oh, that didn't count. You'd just seen a Griever. I'm surprised you didn't klunk your shorts," Frankie teased.

"What is it with you guys and your made-up vocabulary?" she finally asked; Frankie let out a bark of laughter.

"Hell if I know, Greenie. You gotta ask someone else about that," he said. "Honestly, I'm still getting used to saying all this stuff."

The girl laughed and nudged his leg with hers as they sat there.

 _"Shank,"_ she teased, using the unfamiliar vocabulary of the Glade.

 _"Shuck-face,"_ he teased, nudging her back.

It was at least an hour before the Shower House was completely empty, and Frankie stood guard at the door so that no one walked in on the girl. She was happy to get out of her filthy clothes, letting them fall to the floor and kicking them into a corner where a pile of dirty clothes had been formed by the Gladers. She felt sorry for the poor kid that had to wash those. As she pulled off the sports bra she had been wearing, she vaguely hoped that that wasn't going to be her next job.

She pulled the leather hair tie out of her hair. She tried running her fingers through her hair, but it was so tangled and filthy that that wasn't possible.

The Shower House looked like a locker room. She wasn't sure how she knew that; the image of a locker room had popped into her head, but she had no memory of ever having been in one. Just like how she couldn't remember ever seeing a horse, but she knew what it was. In the girl's opinion, it was kind of frustrating to think about.

The shower was lukewarm at best, but it felt like the best thing on earth. She watched as the dirt and grime washed away from her skin and swirled around the drain with the water. There was no telling what all had come out of her hair, and she wasn't even sure she had gotten it completely clean. She wanted to wash her hair five times over, but she made herself stop after the second wash, remembering that there were thirty something Gladers and a limited supply of shampoo, and who knew how often that came up in the Box?

Outside of the Shower House, Frankie stood in front of the entrance, trying to deter anyone from going inside. Most didn't object, they simply shrugged or huffed in frustration before walking away. Of course, there were a few guys who lingered there, "joking" to Frankie about how he should let them have just a little peek. Every now and then, another Glader, annoyed or disapproving of their behavior, would come along and shoo them away, for which Frankie was grateful.

The only real problem arose when one of the Blood Housers came to take his own shower. His name was James, and he had been the one that the girl had accused of ruining her work on the fence that she had fixed. He was a big guy with an even bigger temper, and most Gladers, especially Frankie, just stayed out of his way.

"Move it, shank," he said to Frankie.

"You'll have to wait," Frankie said, trying to sound as polite about it as possible. "The greenie's in there."

This reason didn't seem to impress James all too much; in fact, the mention of the Glade's newest arrival made him more irritable.

"You think I care, shuck-face? I'm tired and sticky, and I wanna take a shower, so beat it!"

James tried to walk around Frankie, but Frankie moved to keep blocking his way into the Shower House.

"You can't go in there. I'm sure she's almost finished, if you could just wait—"

"Listen, kid, you're getting on my nerves. She's one girl living with a bunch of guys; she's gonna have to get used to it sooner or later."

James moved to walk around Frankie again, but Frankie held out his hand, gently pushing the guy back. James looked down at Frankie's hand on his chest and frowned.

"You can't—"

James swiftly grabbed Frankie's wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and pushed him into the wall of the Shower House.

" _Don't_ touch me again," James told Frankie through clenched teeth.

Frankie, who was a very lanky kid, grunted as he hit the wall. He turned his face to the side and let out a nervous laugh.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't break my arm," he said to James, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

"James, let him go," came Nick's voice.

Frankie let out a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, James," Frankie said, repeating Nick's order, "let him go."

James hesitated as though wondering whether or not he should keep following Nick's orders. Unbeknownst to a lot of the Gladers, there had been some talk among a select group of boys who were all very seriously contemplating a change of leadership. There were a few kids who believed that limiting the number of people allowed in the Maze was slowing down the process of finding a way out, and that Nick didn't have what it took to make the right decisions. This had been something that had been brewing long before the girl, or Frankie for that matter, had gotten to the Glade, but the girl's arrival and the way (James thought) Nick allowed her to act made James' opinion of Nick that much bleaker.

"James," Nick said in a warning tone, and at about that time, the girl emerged from the Shower House, clean and refreshed and patting her hair with a towel, to find her only definite friend pinned against the wall by the same guy that had threatened her only yesterday.

Before she could say or do anything, James gave her a harsh look, something frightening flashing in his eyes, and he let go of Frankie.

"Are you okay?" the girl asked, immediately sliding next to Frankie who just waved his hand dismissively to tell her that he was fine.

"Do you mind telling me what your problem is?" Nick asked, and James looked at him, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

However, if James had been planning on actually telling Nick what he was thinking, he must have changed his mind.

"Nothing," he mumbled. "Nothing at all."

And with that, James disappeared into the Shower House, leaving Nick, the girl, and Frankie, plus a few onlookers. Nick witnessed the girl throw him a dirty look as though this were his fault, even though Frankie was completely fine, minus a sore arm that would be okay in a few minutes.

"Sorry about that," Nick said, "James has got a temper sometimes and maybe a few anger issues."

"Well, maybe you should do something about it, _leader,_ " the girl bit out before turning back to her friend. "Come on, let's go, Frankie."

The girl and Frankie walked away, and one by one so did all of the onlookers. Nick sighed, running a hand over his dark hair as he watched the girl's retreating figure.

"You should put your sling back on!" he called after her as an afterthought, noticing that she hadn't put it back on since her shower; though whether she heard him or not, he didn't know.

"You really _should_ put your sling back on," Frankie told her.

She rolled her eyes.

"How many times do I have to say that my arm's fine?" she said, but she put the sling back on anyways so Frankie wouldn't bug her about it. "What was that all about anyway?"

Frankie shrugged.

"James is just a jerk," he said.

"Agreed, but seriously, what was it about?"

Frankie told her about what had happened and she frowned.

"Like hell I have to get used to it," she said when Frankie had told her what James had said. "I may be stuck here, but I still have a right to my privacy."

The two Gladers sat on the ground in front of the Homestead porch. They talked and the girl had taken to ripping strips of leather off of her sling with a small knife that Frankie had.

"You should probably not do that," Frankie told her after a while, "seeing as how it's probably the only sling we've got."

She sighed and scooped up the pieces she had already torn off. Despite the pile she had acquired, the sling was still functional, if not a bit shabbier looking than it already had been. She ran her fingers over the back of the little curved blade of the knife in her hand.

"How are you supposed to hurt anybody with this? It's tiny!" she said, criticizing the knife.

Frankie smiled and rolled his eyes.

"It's not for hurting people, you psycho. It's for harvesting things like mushrooms. See? It's got a little brush on the handle for getting the soil off. It's my favorite gardening tool."

She ran her fingers over the rough bristles and folded the blade back into the handle. She gave it back to Frankie and shook her head.

"You're a dork."

"And yet, you're still friends with me," he said, putting the knife back into his pocket.

"Yeah, maybe I should rethink that," she teased, picking up a few strips of leather from the pile she had made on the ground.

"It's too late," Frankie teased back. "You're stuck with me now. I'm like a puppy."

"Or a fungus," she said, laughing a bit and earning a playful shove from Frankie.

They stayed there and talked even after one of the Gladers came around to hand everyone their blankets, signaling that it was time to get some sleep. They sat with their backs against the Homestead under the light of a dim lamp that was flickering on the railing of the porch. The girl listened and laughed at Frankie as she started weaving and braiding the leather strips together.

Frankie fell asleep before the girl did. She lay beside him, her hands under her head as she look upward, vaguely wondering whether or not she should go blow the lamp out or continue to let it burn.

Suddenly, Nick appeared above her, and without saying a word, he took a knife and jammed the blade of it into one of the wooden posts of the Homestead porch, right above where she was laying. She noticed that it was the same knife he had given her to carve her name into the East wall. He looked down at her before walking away.

She sat up, looking from Nick to the knife.

"What's that for?" she asked as he climbed the Homestead stairs.

"For when you decide."

"Decide what?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"What you want your name to be."

Nick put the lamp out and walked into the Homestead to finally go to sleep. The girl lay back down and stared at the knife for a long time before rolling over to her side and closing her eyes.


	13. Subconscious Things

_**Previously:**_

 _Suddenly, Nick appeared above her, and without saying a word, he took a knife and jammed the blade of it into one of the wooden posts of the Homestead porch, right above where she was laying. She noticed that it was the same knife he had given her to carve her name into the East wall. He looked down at her before walking away._

 _She sat up, looking from Nick to the knife._

 _"What's that for?" she asked as he climbed the Homestead stairs._

 _"For when you decide."_

 _"Decide what?" she asked, dumbfounded._

 _"What you want your name to be."_

 _Nick put the lamp out and walked into the Homestead to finally go to sleep. The girl lay back down and stared at the knife for a long time before rolling over to her side and closing her eyes._

* * *

The next morning, as the girl awoke to the sound of the opening doors and a ringing in her left ear, she had forgotten about the happenings of last night. However, when she rolled over onto her back, she saw the knife was still lodged into the porch's wooden post above her. She frowned as it seemed to be mocking her.

"Ready for a fun-filled day in the gardens with your best friend?" came Frankie's joking voice as the girl sat up, rubbing her sleepy eyes. "Or at least I _assume_ you'll be in the gardens today."

He saw her glance up at the knife above where they were sitting.

"I'm really hoping that's not some sort of _message,_ " Frankie said. "I don't take too well to death threats."

She let out a small laugh.

"Nobody's threatening anybody," she said. "It's for me."

As they walked to the kitchens for breakfast, she told him what Nick had told her the previous night about choosing her name. She also explained that she had tried to do exactly that at the East wall but how nothing she was going to carve had felt right. Upon hearing this, Frankie immediately started making a mental list of names. He started rattling them off to her, one after the other, and she sort of regretted telling him.

She was happy to be rid of her sling. Though, Clint had made her sit still while he bandaged up her leg again. He had reprimanded her for not coming to have it bandaged up again after her shower the previous day.

"Well, how can I tell when it doesn't need to be bandaged anymore?" she had asked in a sarcastic way because, to her, the bandage was kind of arbitrary.

"When it's all scabbed up and not oozing anymore," Clint had snapped back at her.

It _had_ sort of been oozing, and some of the bigger scrapes weren't completely scabbed over yet. She didn't say anything to Clint (because she was sure she would get into trouble), but she had, admittedly, been picking at the smaller scabs when she got bored. Of course, she guessed that that was just another reason to bandage it all up.

As it turned out, Frankie's assumption had been right, and the girl was working with the Track-hoes that day. While she had previously been looking forward to this, Frankie was getting on her nerves with the whole name thing. Plus, she found out rather quickly that she just did not like gardening.

"What about Mary?" Frankie asked as they worked, continuing down a very, very long list of the most generic female names he could think of.

"That sounds like the name of a girl who is very pristine and always follows the rules," she said.

"Moving on then," Frankie replied. "What about Jill?"

She immediately thought about the Jack and Jill nursery rhyme, which was for some reason planted in her mind. For now, she filed it under the weird anomalies in her so-called memory loss.

"More like Jack and Jill went up the hill to find Jill a new name," she said.

"Well, what about Catherine?" Frankie suggested. "We could call you Cat."

"Do I look like a kitten to you?"

"Bethany?"

"No."

"Olivia?"

"No."

"Cindy?"

"I'd rather run into the Maze."

Frankie finally threw his hands in the air.

"That's it. That's all I've got," he said in surrender.

"I don't know, Frankie," she said. "I'm sure all these names are great...for other people. But none of them feel right to me."

"Well, I don't hear any suggestions from you," he said; she shrugged.

"I guess I just feel like I shouldn't have to pick; no one else gets to pick their name. A name is something that's given to you," she said.

"If you leave it up to the Gladers, your name will end up being 'Girl,'" Frankie warned her.

She sighed.

"Maybe that's what it should be then," she said, and Frankie shook his head.

"No. No way. You deserve an actual name," Frankie said. "You just gotta find one you like."

"No Name and Frankie, are you working or just talking?"

"Mind your own business, Dmitri," Frankie said to the boy not too far away from them.

"Or I could just be called, 'No Name,'" the girl grumbled sullenly.

"See? That's why you need to pick a name, and fast," Frankie said.

The girl knew that Frankie was right. She wouldn't especially like being called 'Girl' or 'No Name,' and if she didn't choose fast, one of those was probably what she would get stuck with. But she still couldn't bring herself to choose. Maybe she was hoping that if she heard the right name, it'd come back to her. Maybe she thought she would recognize that name as hers as soon as it was spoken. But Frankie had went through what felt like at least a hundred names today, and they all felt the same way: detached and non memory provoking.

"Maybe I should pick a guy's name," she said after a while.

"Why?" Frankie asked, obviously not liking the idea.

She shrugged.

"Think about it. I'm the only girl that's been sent up so far; for all we know, my name could've been Bob," she said.

"I think you look more like a Rodger," Frankie teased, causing her to laugh a bit.

"Be honest," she said, "what name do you really think would suit me?"

Frankie just looked at her. He had given her a whole list of names, but she seemed to know that he was only throwing up as many names as he could think of, no real thought behind them. In all honesty, he was just as stumped as she was about what her name should be.

"Truthfully? I haven't got a clue," Frankie said.

For the rest of the time until lunch, they mulled over the idea of different names in their heads, but nothing stuck out, and the girl went to lunch, still nameless and still empty on the inside. Frankie noticed the sad and disappointed look on her face and asked if she was okay.

Before answering, she could hear a voice inside her head, repeating the words,

 _Fake it. Fake it, Greenie._

Vaguely irritated that her subconscious was taking on Newt's voice (annoying accent and all), the girl immediately put a smile on her face, and while it seemed to make her feel more terrible on the inside, she looked absolutely chipper on the outside.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Upon seeing that Frankie seemed quite content with her answer, the girl wondered if maybe Newt's grin-and-bear-it technique was actually a _good_ technique. After all, what good would have come from telling Frankie how she really felt? Then, they would both be sad; her because she already was, and Frankie because he sympathized with her way too much (much more than she deserved, and she knew it).

 _See? Much easier to deal with,_ her subconscious told her, and still, she heard this in Newt's (now, rather smug) voice, and she was annoyed and shocked that he, of all people, had been the one to get into her head with his stupid "words of advice."

 _Oh, shut up,_ she thought to her own subconscious as she stood in line for her food.

The girl, who seemed to be a rather fast eater, finished with her food far before Frankie did. As a rule, Frankie didn't talk too much while he was in the middle of eating, mostly because a few weeks ago, he had accidentally spit food on a kid's face, and he didn't want that to happen with his new friend. So the girl sat there in silence, working on weaving and braiding the strips of leather she had acquired from her sling the night before. She wasn't exactly sure what she was making just yet (a bracelet maybe?), but she liked the calming affect that it had on her, much like when she was working with the Builders.

It took a while for Frankie to realize it, but when he did, he almost choked on his pork. She was humming. What amazed him most was that she had absolutely no idea that she was doing it; he could tell from the calm look on her face as she worked with her leather; it was a completely subconscious thing.

He stopped eating, careful not to make any loud noises or sudden movements lest she stop. The tune was delicate and almost ethereal. It was by far one of the most beautiful things that had come out of the girl's mouth, and for a moment, Frankie forgot that this was the same girl who was inexplicably rude and self-centered most of the time. In fact, the tune was so graceful and calming that Frankie found himself getting lost in it rather than listening to how it went, but he caught a few snippets here and there. The part that stuck out to him most was the part he had remembered before, and he listened to what came before and after it so that he could help her piece things together.

It took a moment, but the humming stopped, and Frankie looked up into the girl's vexed face.

"I was humming," she said suddenly.

"I heard," Frankie replied, his face splitting into a wide grin.

"What do you remember?" she asked automatically, leaning forward eagerly.

Frankie gave her a much longer piece of the mystery tune than he had before, adding onto the previous clip he had given her. Again, it was all very familiar, and she hummed it a few times so that she wouldn't forget it, but it didn't lead her to the complete tune, and that frustrated her.

"It's like it's at the very edge of my mind," she explained to Frankie. "So close that I can almost hear the rest of it, but I just can't!"

"I'm sure it'll come to you," Frankie told her. "We've just gotta keep piecing it together."

He seemed to being trying to assure her so that she didn't get angry or sad, and upon hearing this in his voice, the girl, once again, heard Newt's voice inside her head.

 _At least smile so he can quit_ _bloody worrying about you._

The girl put on a smile again, and she felt a kind of numbing sensation spread through her mind, taking away the frustration and leaving nothing in its wake. Something inside her told her that this couldn't be very healthy for someone's mental state, and she began to worry about Newt again. Had he been doing this for seven months? How had he not broken yet?

The girl spent the rest of lunch wondering about this. She even contemplated asking him if he was okay again and maybe get him to be serious about the answer this time. However, as she and Frankie walked their empty plates to the kitchens, she realized that she shouldn't care what Newt did. It wasn't like they were friends; they had only talked, what? Two, three times? And most of those times, he was reprimanding her for her attitude or telling her how to act. Why should she care about him?

So for the time being, the girl let Newt slip from her mind as she walked back to the gardens with Frankie. Two Builders, Stan and Tyler, caught up with them, carrying bags and tool belts and planks of wood between them.

"Greenie," Stan said in acknowledgement, nodding in her and Frankie's direction. "Frankie."

"How're liking the gardens, Greenbean?" Tyler asked.

She only shrugged in response. She didn't want to offend Frankie by saying that she found it all relentlessly boring. Mostly, she was happy that in a few hours, it would be over. And she doubted very seriously that Zart would fight for her to stay with the Track-hoes (she had accidentally broken two cornstalks earlier that day in the cornfield, and though Frankie had tried to take the blame, everyone knew it had been her).

The girl was happy that they hadn't called her 'No Name,' which seemed to be the new joke going around the Glade. She blamed Nick and his stupid Name Wall for that. However, she was once again reminded that she needed to pick a name, and it annoyed her.

"What are you guys doing?" Frankie asked as the two Builders walked with him and the girl.

"Yeah, did you finish with the barn?" the girl asked.

"Nah," Tyler said. "They're still workin' on it."

"Gally says that Zart needs more trellises for the gardens," Stan said. "So here we are."

"Man, Gally likes sending you away, Stan," the girl teased. "First, it's fix the roof; now, it's build the trellises. He not like to be around you or something?"

"I like to think he asks me to do all those things because he likes me," Stan said.

"Does Gally like anybody?" she asked.

"Sometimes, if you're lucky, he'll smile in your general direction," Tyler joked, causing them all to laugh.

"Nah, I'm just shucking around," Tyler added. "Gally's a good guy."

"You know, he got stung by a Griever," Stan told her, and she involuntarily shuddered at the word. "Went through the Changing and said he got some of his memory back."

"Really? Like what?" she asked.

Stan shrugged.

"I dunno. I never asked. Didn't wanna bring it up, you know?"

The girl nodded, and when she got back to the gardens, she was pleased to find that she and Frankie had made their way to the tomato plants, not far from where Tyler and Stan had set up to work. They were close enough for her and Frankie to talk to, but not so close that she felt obligated to do so, allowing her and Frankie to have their own separate conversations whenever they felt like it.

"Did anybody ever fix the barn roof?" the girl asked Stan as she looked for ripe tomatoes to pick.

Stan let out a laugh.

"Nope. After I almost fell off the shuck roof, no one's in a hurry to get up there."

"Shanks," the girl said, laughter in her voice.

This made them all laugh because the word sounded so unfamiliar coming out of her mouth.

"Agreed," Stan said after laughing at her. "Guess you and I will have to get back up there and fix it."

"Fine, but no dropping any tools next time," she said.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, princess," Stan teased, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"That's right, just keep calling me that," she said, remembering the agreement he had made her the day before. "One of these days, I'm gonna get in that Ring and beat the crap out of you, so get it all out while you still can."

Stan and Tyler laughed.

"Greenie, you couldn't beat _Frankie_ in the Ring," Tyler said, and Frankie scoffed in mock-offense.

"At least you have an optimistic outlook though," Stan teased. "Who knows? Maybe that'll come in handy one of these days."

"Oh, you just wait," was all she said.

The girl had decided that, apart from talking to Frankie, the Ring was going to be her favorite pastime, even if she did get her ass handed to her more often than not. She figured everyone started somewhere, and she could only go up from there, right? She would practice; she would get good; she would have fun doing it. And most importantly, Stan wouldn't call her 'princess' anymore once she finally managed to beat him. _If_ she finally managed to beat him.

Half an hour or so passed, and everybody had run out of things to say. They were all hard at work and thinking to themselves. The girl was thinking about names again. She was making no progress with her dilemma, and every now and then, she would look over to the Homestead. She couldn't see the knife because she was too far away, but she knew it was still there. And its presence still mocked her.

She hated it. She hated it as though it had personally insulted her, as though it were a living, breathing thing that was actively trying to ruin her life. If it could have died, she would have wanted it to.

"Greenie," Tyler said after a while.

The girl hadn't heard him; she had been deep in thought.

 _"Hummer,"_ he said, louder this time, and this caught the girl and Frankie's attention because neither of them had realized she had been humming again.

She looked at Tyler.

"What?"

"Come here and hold this board like this," Tyler said. "It'll only take a couple of seconds."

The girl walked over to the two Builders, happy to have an excuse to not pick the ripe tomato with the spider on it that she had just seen.

"Just kinda hold it still for us," Tyler said, pointing to the bottom frame of the trellis-in-progress.

She did as instructed and Tyler held another board in place as Stan looked for the box of nails he had misplaced.

"What is it with you and the humming anyway?" Tyler asked, looking down at her.

The girl shrugged.

"Wish I knew," she mumbled.

At that moment, the "be careful what you wish for" saying was working at full force in the universe. She had hardly gotten the words out of her mouth before Tyler let out a violent sneeze. The very lax grip he had had on the board slipped, and the end he was supposed to be holding up swung down and collided with the side of the girl's head with a loud _thunk._

She wasn't sure what happened after that. The next thing she remembered was Frankie leaning over her, a worried expression plastered on his face.

"You okay, Greenie?" he asked.

The girl blinked her hazel eyes a couple of times before realizing that her head hurt. She gingerly touched the side of her head with her fingers and felt that a lump had already started to form.

"I'm so sorry, Greenie," came Tyler's voice from somewhere near her.

She let out a small laugh as she continued to lay on the ground. Her first day working, she had been put in the Slammer. Her second day working, she had dislocated her shoulder. Her third day working, she had been knocked out. She just couldn't _wait_ to see what tomorrow had in store for her.

"I can't catch a break, can I?"

She sort of faded off at the end of her question because something far more important popped into her head. It had been very sudden and very unexpected. It showed itself in her mind's eye for a split second, and she clung to it with every fiber of her being, not daring to let go until she had it memorized, every second of it.

The girl shot into an upright sitting position, and the three boys around her stared at her, half-worried and half-curious.

"I remember," she said, looking up at Frankie. "I remember the tune!"

It was a revelation in her mind that excited her to no end. She remembered it. She remembered the mystery tune that had plagued her the entire time she had been in the Glade. She still didn't remember her old life, or even her name, but she remembered _something._ And remembering just that one thing, no matter how insignificant it was to finding the truth about this strange place, made her feel a little less empty on the inside, and very, very hopeful.

The tune, though she didn't know where it came from, felt familiar and warm and kind. More importantly, she knew it had to be linked to her past somehow. And she felt like, even though she still didn't have a name, she finally had something of her own, something that belonged to her and made up a part of her. Something that was part of her _identity._

And in that moment, despite what was to come next, she couldn't have been happier.


	14. Missing Limbs and Suppressed Emotions

_**Previously:**_

 _"I remember," she said, looking up at Frankie. "I remember the tune!"_

 _It was a revelation in her mind that excited her to no end. She remembered it. She remembered the mystery tune that had plagued her the entire time she'd been in the Glade. She still didn't remember her old life, or even her name, but she remembered_ something _. And remembering just that one thing, no matter how insignificant it was to finding the truth about this strange place, made her feel a little less empty on the inside, and very, very hopeful._

 _The tune, though she didn't know where it came from, felt familiar and warm and kind. More importantly, she knew it had to be linked to her past somehow. And she felt like, even though she still didn't have a name, she finally had something of her own, something that belonged to her and made up a part of her. Something that was part of her_ identity.

 _And in that moment, despite what was to come next, she couldn't have been happier._

* * *

 _"Med-jacks!"_

The call sounded close; it came from somewhere near the northern part of the Glade. Frankie and Tyler helped the girl to her feet, and they heard the cry for help once more, the girl's happiness forgotten.

"We need a Med-jack!"

The girl and the three boys shared concerned glances before looking back towards the North wall. Some Gladers, mostly Keepers, were already making their way over to the door. The girl noticed that other Gladers, like Stan and Tyler and Frankie, weren't moving at all.

"Must be a Runner," Stan said to Tyler.

"Sounded like Newt," Frankie said.

The girl looked at them and then back to the door. There were two people coming out of it, but Gally and Nick and Alby were blocking her view. And suddenly, the curiosity was all too much for her, and she took off in a sprint to the door.

"Greenie, wait!" Frankie said, taking off after her.

She arrived at the door about the same time that Clint did. However, as Clint was allowed right through the crowd of Keepers and respected Gladers, the girl was stopped by Gally, who caught her just in time to stop her from seeing what was happening.

"Go on, Greenie, you don't need to see this."

"But what happened? Who is that?" she asked, trying to see around Gally, but he promptly turned her the other way.

"Forget it, Greenie," Gally said. "Get her back to the gardens," he added to Frankie, who had just caught up.

Frankie grabbed hold of her arm and started walking her back toward the gardens. However, she easily broke free of Frankie and ducked under Gally's arm when he tried to stop her again. She quickly pushed her way to the front of the crowd, and her stomach gave a lurch.

Laying on the ground was a Runner; she knew his name was Alfred. Where his shirt had been ripped open, the girl could see green veins on the boy's chest that seemed to be spreading right before her eyes. However, this wasn't what got her attention. Poor Alfred's whole right arm was missing; meat and flesh hung from the massive wound that was pooling blood around him on the ground.

"Oh, my god," she said before she could stop herself.

Newt, who was on his knees beside the boy, drenched in sweat and blood, looked up at her. She was taken aback by the look of pure terror in his eyes.

"I don't know how long he's been like that," Newt panted. "I just found him."

"What happened to him?" the girl asked, her voice shaking.

Nick snapped his head up towards her.

"Someone get her out of here," Nick ordered.

"You're pushing your luck, Greenie," Gally told her as he grabbed her and spun her away from the scene.

"No, I wanna know what happened to him," she demanded, trying to push Gally off of her.

"We need to get him inside," she heard Clint say as Gally walked her away from it all.

"Get off me, Gally," she said, still struggling against him.

"Slim it, Greenie," was all he said, his grip on her tightening.

"I just wanna know what happened!"

"You don't _need_ to know what happened," Gally said, but it didn't matter because Frankie had already guessed the answer out loud.

"It was Griever, wasn't it?" he said. "I saw him. He was stung."

" _Stung?_ He had his arm ripped off!" she said loudly. "There's no way a serum's gonna fix that!"

She was shaking now, blinking furiously as tears spill from her eyes.

"But Nick said th-th-that they didn't come out during the day," she remembered suddenly; she looked at Gally as though expecting him confirm this.

Gally sighed, shaking his head a bit.

"He said they don't _usually_ come out during the day," he said.

Upon hearing this, the girl felt like someone had punched her in the gut, like all the air had been sucked from her lungs. She looked at the nearest open door of the Maze, and she felt panicked and dizzy. Her head still throbbed from being hit, her heart felt like it was about to pound out of her chest, and her stomach kept giving violent lurches as her mind spun with images of Grievers and blood and armless Alfred.

"Greenie?" Frankie asked as she sucked in huge gulps of air, but she hardly heard him; he sounded far away.

Gally's grip on her loosened, letting her arm go, and the girl stumbled forward a few steps before falling to her hands and knees and vomiting up her lunch.

Gally looked more irritated with the girl than anything, but Frankie knelt beside her, patting her lightly on her back. The girl's mind raced with questions. Was there only one Griever walking around out there? Or more? Could it get into the Glade? Shouldn't they be barricading the doors? What about the other Runners? Had anybody else been attacked?

"Come on, get her up," Gally said to Frankie after she stopped retching.

The two boys hoisted her up by her arms. She was pale and shaking.

"I-I-I c-can't breathe," she sputtered out, still sucking in clipped gulps of air.

A full blown anxiety attack had settled in, and she felt like she was dying.

"You're fine, Greenie, you're just freaking out," Gally muttered, pulling on her arm.

"Piss off, Gally," Frankie snapped, pulling the girl away from him.

"What did you say to me, shank?" Gally said.

However, Frankie wasn't listening to him. He stood in front of the girl, trying to get her to look at him.

"Hey, Greenie. Look at me. You're gonna be fine," Frankie said, shaking the girl by her shoulders gently. "You just gotta stop thinking about it."

"I-I-I sh-shouldn't have– I shouldn't—"

She was trying to say, "I shouldn't have went over there. I should've stayed put. I should've done what I was fucking told," but none of that would come out of her mouth properly. She was still hyperventilating, and her mind was irritatingly reminding her of the day that Newt had called her impulsive. Well, he had been right. She had a knack for putting her nose where it did not belong. She needed to stop that, especially where the Maze was concerned, before she ended up giving herself a heart attack.

She could feel other Gladers' eyes on her as she freaked out, and she hated that she couldn't stop herself. It was humiliating.

"Hey, remember before this?" Frankie said out of the blue. "You said you remembered that tune. Remember? Can you hum it for me? I wanna hear it."

 _Hum? I can hardly_ breathe, _and this kid wants me to hum?_ she thought.

However, her mind went back to the newly remembered tune anyway. It was weird. Days of not knowing this tune, and suddenly, it was in her head like it had been there all along. And oddly enough, thinking about it calmed her down just a little bit. Maybe Frankie _wasn't_ a crazy person; maybe he had been on to something. So she did what he had asked and tried humming.

It started out horrible; nothing like her absentminded humming that Frankie had heard at lunch. It was choppy and clipped and shaky because she kept having to suck in gulps of air. She kept going though; concentrating on the tune.

Slowly but surely, the girl started to breathe normally again. Her heart no longer felt like it was going to explode. And her stomach had stopped twisting. By the time she reached the end of the tune, she felt much better, and she looked up at Frankie with grateful eyes.

"Thanks," she said.

Frankie smiled a little bit, dropping his hands from her shoulders.

"Don't mention it," he said. "Between you and me, I wasn't even sure if it'd work. Glad it did."

Gally, who had witnessed the whole ordeal, rolled his eyes at the two newest members of the Glade.

"Yeah, that's great and all, but you two need to get back to work," he said.

He grabbed both of them by a shoulder, turned them in the direction of the gardens, and gave them a rough shove on their backs. The two stumbled forward a bit before starting their walk back to the garden, where Stan and Tyler were waiting to hear all the details, their unfinished trellis completely forgotten.

* * *

Poor Alfred was dead from blood loss before they could get him into the Homestead, or at least, that's what Frankie and the girl had heard. Nick and Alby had went into the Maze to try and round up the other Runners for the day; apparently, Nick didn't want anyone else running into the Griever. Newt had went into the Homestead when they had carried Alfred in, and no one had seen him since. Everyone had seen Baggers carrying Alfred's lifeless body into the Deadheads to be buried; it was pretty morbid.

Nick had let everyone stop working at least an hour early. The girl assumed that the death of a fellow Glader constituted longer periods of down time. Except, the Cooks were still working, and thank goodness for that because ever since she had barfed up her lunch, the girl had been starving.

No one was in the Ring today. She figured that was too jovial of an activity for a day in which someone had died. So she, Frankie, Tyler, and Stan were currently talking amongst themselves, sitting on the Homestead's front steps. She was still weaving and braiding those strips of leather together, and whenever there was a pause in the conversation, she would hum.

Frankie listened to her contentedly. Occasionally, he would look up at the knife that was still lodged into the post of the porch. He wondered if she'd ever remember her name like she remembered that tune and if her name was nearly as pretty as the tune was.

"Hey, hummer, how is it that you can remember a tune but not your name?" Tyler finally asked.

The girl shrugged.

"Your guess is as good as mine," she said.

"When you gonna pick a name?" Stan asked.

She shrugged again.

"As soon as I think of a good one."

"Well, you better hurry up," Stan told her. "You've only got a month. Well, a month minus five days. When that new Greenie comes up, we gotta call you something else."

"That's what I tried telling her," Frankie said.

"We can always just call her 'shank,'" came a familiar voice.

The girl looked to see Newt standing in the doorway of the Homestead with fresh clothes. No one said anything for a while; they just stared at Newt. He frowned.

"Well, don't stare at me like I'm a bloody freak show," he said, walking onto the porch and leaning against the railing.

The boys looked away, but the girl didn't.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Newt told her as though he didn't know why she would ask him this. "He's not the first person to die here, ya know?"

The girl furrowed her brow.

"Yeah, but he was a Runner. Weren't you guys friends?" she pressed.

Newt shrugged.

"I suppose, but now, he's dead, so there's no point in talking about it."

With this, Newt walked off the porch and headed towards the kitchens, where supper was almost finished. The four Gladers all gave him weird looks as he walked off.

"How is it nothing fazes that guy?" Tyler asked in disbelief.

The girl frowned, remembering the conversation she'd had with Newt the day before.

"I'm not so sure it doesn't," she replied.

A few hours later, the girl was laying in the grass in front of the Homestead, looking up at the sky. Supper had come and gone, and the doors had closed; she'd been happy to find that it only took a few minutes for her ear to stop its ringing this time. Stan and Tyler had left her to go hang out with their fellow Builders, and Frankie was taking a shower. She had finished braiding her strips of leather and had fashioned them into a bracelet that now resided around her upper arm because it had been too big for her wrist.

And suddenly, there was Gally, looking down at her.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking at the sky."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Why do you care?" she asked, sitting up.

Gally didn't answer, he just rolled his eyes and walked past her to the porch of the Homestead. The girl watched him curiously as he wedged the knife out of the porch's post.

"What are _you_ doing?" she asked, standing up and brushing herself off.

"Why do you care?" Gally asked, mocking her.

"Well, Nick put that knife there for—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Gally interrupted. "Relax. As soon as I'm done, I'll put it right back so that you can go back to staring at it instead of actually picking a name."

"As soon as you're done with what?" she asked curiously as Gally started to walk away.

Gally sighed.

"You ask a lot of questions, you know that?" he said, but he answered her anyway. "Gotta take Alfred's name off the wall."

"Oh," was all she said, and Gally continued his walk to the East wall.

She suddenly wondered what they'd do if she died before she managed to put a name on the wall. Would they do nothing, leave it blank? Would someone write No Name on the wall before scratching it out? She frowned, but then, she forgot about the wall when she saw Newt.

He was near the gardens, and he too was laying in the grass and looking up at the sky. This made her smile just a bit before she decided to walk over to him. She looked down at him just as Gally had done to her. Newt let out a laugh upon seeing her.

"Come to ask me about my feelings?" he teased.

"You'd have to admit that you had some first," she said.

Then, she dropped to the ground a couple of feet away from him, laying down as well. He raised his brow.

"What are you doing, Greenie?"

"Nothing. Same as you. Why? You got a problem with me?"

Newt shook his head, ignoring the question. He turned his head to the side to look at her.

"Nice bracelet," he teased.

She smiled.

"Thanks, it's designer," she said sarcastically.

Newt laughed a bit, looking back up at the sky.

"Did you like the gardens?" he asked.

"God, no. I hate that job. Don't tell Frankie though," she said.

"My lips are sealed," he said.

The two were quiet for a while. Then, the girl propped herself up on one of her elbows and looked at him. He turned his head to look at her once more.

"What?"

"I'm sorry about Alfred," she told him.

A muscle ticked in Newt's jaw before he turned his head back to the sky.

"We're not talking about this."

She frowned at him.

"I know that you care," she pressed. "You're just pretending not to, Mr. Grin-and-bear-it."

"You don't know anything about me, shank," Newt said, sitting up and resting his arms on his knees. "You've been here five days, and we've spoken about three times."

"I'm just trying to help," she said. "I saw the look in your eyes when you came out the Maze. You were terrified."

"Why don't you do me a favor and go back to just caring about yourself?" Newt snapped.

The girl was taken aback by his outburst. She sat up and looked at him with a semi-hurt expression. But she quickly shook herself out of it.

"Whatever. Pretend you're fine. What do I care? After all, I'm just–what was it you called me that day when I was in the Slammer? Oh yeah, 'bratty and unreasonable,' right?"

The girl stood up, brushing herself off. But just before she could walk away, Newt sighed.

"I'm sorry, Greenie. You gotta cut me some slack; one of my friends just died today," he said.

She looked at him as he stood up.

"Then, why don't you act like it?" she asked.

"Why do you care?"

He had a point. Why _did_ she care?

"Because I tried your 'just fake it' technique, and it sucked," she said. "Sure, it kinda worked, but it can't be healthy keeping all your feelings bottled up like that. I know I couldn't do that all the time."

"Well, that's exactly what I'd expect to hear from someone who acts on every feeling she has," he said.

The girl rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I know. I'm impulsive; you've already told me. But at least I'm _trying_ to work on my problems, which is more than I can say for you," she said.

"That's where you're wrong, Greenie," Newt said. "I haven't got a problem."

She opened her mouth to say something, but Newt cut her off.

"Now, don't you have a name to be worrying about?"

And with that, he walked away, leaving her alone. She frowned at his retreating figure. That kid had some serious issues that he wasn't dealing with. However, he was (regrettably) right; she _did_ have a name to worry about.

The girl turned on her heel and walked back to the Homestead, where she was greeted by Gally once more. She watched as he jammed the knife back into the wooden porch post.

"There you go, Greenie. Right back where Nick left it. You can go back to your sky-gazing and namelessness," Gally told her.

She frowned at him.

"Why are you such a jerk all the time?" she asked. "I mean, what'd I ever do to you?"

"You mean, besides being a pain in the ass?" Gally asked.

"Hey, I've gotten better," she defended. "Sort of," she added, remembering how she had blatantly ignored him earlier when he had tried to get her to go back to the gardens.

Gally shook his head and let out a small chuckle before walking away.

"So that's it?" she called after him. "You're just always not gonna like me?"

Gally stopped walking for a second and turned back to her.

"Who said I didn't like you?" he asked, a small smirk flashing across his face for half a second.

Then, Gally turned and walked away, and the girl let out a small laugh. Maybe Gally wasn't as bad as she had originally thought. Still a dick? Yes. But hey, at least he wasn't a dick that hated her.


End file.
